Guarding the Shepard
by Kidwrangler
Summary: Sheppard investigates a series of seemingly unrelated accidents in Atlantis.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Stargate does not belong to me. This story is for entertainment purposes only. All errors are mine. (Somehow this doesn't seem like a equitable division to me. Smile.)

Summary: Sheppard investigates a series of seemingly unrelated accidents in Atlantis.

Rating: PG-13 for language

Spoilers: Second season

**Guarding the Shepard **

by Kidwrangler

"Fall back! Fall back!" I could barely hear my own voice over the ringing in my ears, but my team inched a little closer to the Stargate. A quick look confirmed Teyla and Ronon had McKay between them, and I backpedaled to the next piece of cover.

A lull in the explosions let McKay's voice rise above the background noises of the battle. "Oh, God! They have catapults! Or maybe ballistas! It isn't enough we get _shot_ at with a truly amazing array of projectile weapons but now they have to _throw_ explosives at us!"

He was clutching his laptop to his chest, crouched over, wide eyes staring at the approaching armies. I'd told him to put the damned thing in his backpack when we'd run into the first scouting party, but he wanted to make one more scan...and now we were retreating before the front lines converged on us.

"I doubt they are aiming for you..." but the rest of Teyla's comment was lost in another explosion. They were getting closer, and accuracy wasn't a problem with the amount of local gunpowder packed into each shell.

And now we were out of cover. No more pretty stone benches to hide behind, no more arches to crouch under until bits of local geography stopped raining on us. I turned and motioned to Ronon. A quick nod was all he gave in return, but McKay was suddenly moving backwards a lot faster than he tended to move forward.

I didn't hear the Stargate DHD dial up, but the _whoosh_ of the wormhole was unmistakable. I cringed when the end of the brick walkway disappeared into powder. Less than a quarter mile, I'd guess. We were out of time. "We're clear," was Ronon's terse comment in my ear, and I reached up to tap my own earpiece.

"Teyla...take McKay. Ronon, cover them. I'm coming in low, Ronon, so try not to part my hair."

"Colonel." That was Teyla. She could pack a lot of information into one word. _I understand. I'll take care of McKay. Be careful._

"But..but...we can't leave you here!" McKay's voice had gained another third. He was going to hurt himself soon if he didn't calm down. Or set a new record for male soprano.

"Ronon'll cover me. Now get your ass through that gate!" I heard a noise, cut off, and risked a backwards glance to see Teyla take Rodney by the back of his vest and double-time him up the steps to the wormhole. They disappeared and I turned around and ran up the last of that pretty walkway. More of it disappeared behind me, and I was treated to grit and dirt clods trying to fall directly down the back of my shirt. Ronon was crouched on the dais and grabbed me when I stumbled near the top.

"Go! Go!" He disappeared through the shimmering blue and I got my feet back under me. I took a couple running steps and the closest explosion yet picked me up off the ground and blew me into the wormhole.

Now Rodney'll tell you, if you can stay awake long enough to listen to the whole explanation, that speed is constant in the wormhole. However fast you're going in is how fast you exit. I don't believe it. I came out of the gate in Atlantis like I'd been flung by one of those catapults, or ballistas, or whatevers, and hit the ramp about half way down. Momentum kept me somersaulting until I ran out of ramp and finally bellyflopped to a stop on the floor. It was a nice floor. Clean. Well, except for the bushel or so of planet that followed me through and sprayed all over. I lay there for a moment, trying to get my lungs working again.

Before I could inventory my body parts, hands were patting my shoulders and face. I opened my eyes to a forest of legs, a variety of footwear, and at least one set of wheels. I rolled over and gazed up, blinking hard to get dirt out of my eyes. Mouths were opening and closing, but all I could hear was the clanging and buzzing of my overtaxed ears.

"You know what we need? Mattresses. And can't we put padding on that ramp? Just once it would be nice to come through the gate scrambling for our lives, and land on nice soft mattresses." The faces around me winced, and Beckett appeared in my line of vision. He held my chin and that torture device he calls a penlight appeared to flash in my pupils.

"I'm fine. Let me up." Someone added support at my shoulders and I was sitting. I let the world settle down some, and then reached up a hand. Beckett was still looking worried and going on about something, but he couldn't make it past the noise in my head. "I can't hear you. Too close to the last explosion. Just give me a hand up."

If I thought Beckett looked worried, he had nothing over Rodney and Elizabeth. McKay grabbed my hand and helped haul me to my feet. Bless him, he kept hanging on while my eyeballs tried to rotate around to the back of my head. A deep breath or three and my eyeballs returned to the front of my skull. Beckett touched my face and when he was certain he had my attention, patted the gurney. Ah. Wheels explained.

"I can walk." Everyone around me winced again. Must be too loud. I tried a softer voice. "I can walk."

But Dr. Carson don't-argue-with-me Beckett was tugging on my elbow, and Elizabeth was pushing gently on my back. Guess who wound up riding.

"Damn it Carson, that hurts!" Beckett looked sorry, but didn't stop poking around in my right ear. The ride to the infirmary was thankfully brief. I felt like a Mardi Gras float going through the halls. All we were missing was the marching band. Ronon, Teyla and Elizabeth had been shooed out to wait in the chairs, but Rodney had refused to leave. He put that stubborn look on his face and dragged a chair over to sit where I could see him. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but those hands were going and his face reflected his emotions. I could practically hear him demanding, _Well! What's wrong with him?_

Apparently deciding he'd mined my right ear enough, Carson moved over to the left. More looking. More prodding. Then back to the right ear. He hit a tender spot and I practically smacked the 'scope out of his hand. He glared at me and I glared back. I saw him sigh, and he slipped the instrument back into his pocket. "Well?"

He patted his pockets for a moment, and then said something to Rodney. McKay pulled out his PDA and handed it over. Carson wrote on it, and then turned it around to me. "_Punctured right ear drum," _it read. "_The left one doesn't look broken. Your earpiece probably provided some protection."_

Damn. Punctured ear drum was an automatic grounding for a pilot. "How long for it to heal?"

He took back the PDA and wrote some more. "_Its not a big break. 4-6 weeks if you're good."_

"And the left ear?"

"_Shouldn't be as long. I'd be surprised if you didn't regain some of the hearing by tomorrow. In the meantime, you're here for observation."_

I groaned. I wanted a shower. I wanted the dirt out of my hair. I wanted something hot to eat and a chance to sit in my own quarters and breathe. Something plopped on my lap and I opened my eyes. "I'm not wearing scrubs!"


	2. Chapter 2

My goodness! What a nice welcome! Thank you for the encouraging comments!

**Guarding the Shepard **

Chapter Two:

So I spent the afternoon in the infirmary, in scrubs, my clothes having suspiciously disappeared while I was trying to take a shower without getting water in my right ear. Not as easy as you'd think. I stomped back out to the main room and glared at Nursezilla as she watched to make sure I went directly back to my bed. She wasn't any more impressed than Beckett. I hate to think I'm losing my touch.

But a tray was waiting for me, and even though it was Nameless Casserole, it was hot, filling, and didn't taste like pulverized brick. Some Advil, and I was feeling a little less like I'd been used as a interplanetary ping-pong ball. From experience I knew it wouldn't last. Although nothing was broken, I'd certainly bent a few things that weren't meant to be that flexible, and I'd know about it, soon.

So I sulked on the bed, my arms folded across my chest, refusing to lay down, no matter how many times Nursezilla walked by. Elizabeth came in and smiled. Like Teyla's voice, Elizabeth's smile could communicate a lot on its own. _I'm glad to see you. You don't look like you're going to die anytime soon._ And after that initial appraisal, her eyes would lose just a touch of that concern and her smile would move on to _What happened THIS time._ She raised one eyebrow and held out a hand, palm up. _Give me the brief version._

"If there's anything there, its been pounded into the landscape by now." She tucked her chin in a bit and frowned, and then patted the air in front of her. _Too loud._ I tried again. "War, I'm guessing." She pressed one hand down through the air. Well, how the hell am I supposed to know how loud I'm talking if all I can hear is the 1812 Overture in my skull? "Looked like a pretty place. The gate was well tended...even looked to have some kind of streetlights lining a promenade. But we got there the same time as a couple of large groups of people who didn't appear to like each other very much. They may have blown up the ring by now. Rodney didn't find anything worth going back after, and I doubt anyone's up to trading foodstuffs at this point."

She nodded, smiled again. She said something, but her voice is soft enough anyway that it didn't have a chance of making it through the Anvil Chorus. A quick pat on my shoulder and she left. I didn't have much time to go back to sulking because as she went out, Teyla and Ronon came in. When Teyla smiles her whole face lights up. Her eyes said _I am glad to see you._ She tried talking, but I had to apologize. "Sorry. The entire cast of 'Hair' is singing up here," I pointed to my forehead, "and I can't hear a word you're saying."

Ronon narrowed his eyes at me. Maybe I shouldn't have used 'Hair' as an example.

"A play. A musical play. Lots of people singing...can't understand a thing they're saying." He thought about that a minute then apparently decided it wasn't worth puzzling out. He looked me up and down, stared me square in the face, and turned and walked away. Ronon wasn't much for conversation, and he kept his feelings tucked well inside, but sometimes I could see something in his eyes. _You look all right to me._ Or it could have been _I'll get you later._ I was hoping for the first one.

Teyla squeezed my hand, smiled her _things are fine for the moment_ smile, and also left. I watched them leave and thought about where Carson might have hidden my clothes this time. Every time I found one of his hiding places, he changed it. He's got to be running out of ideas by now. But as soon as I put a foot over the edge of the bed, Nursezilla appeared out of whatever alternate dimension she was hiding in, and with her hands on her hips, tapped a foot until mine went back under the blanket. Damn. Back to sulking.

The problem with sulking is its boring. My knees and shoulders were aching from their acrobatic entrance through the gate, and my feet were cold. And there's only so long you can glare at the back of people's heads. Especially when they won't turn around so you can see if you're annoying them enough to consider letting you out of bed. So I pulled the blanket up a little higher and scrunched down a little lower, just to warm up a bit.

I must have dozed off because my breath stopped briefly with that _Danger Danger Will Robinson_ feeling and I opened my eyes to find myself staring into very large blue ones. They were very large because Rodney was close enough to my face to be breathing on me. I reflexively jerked back, swearing to myself at the cacophony of unhappy muscles and bruises making themselves known. "What the hell are you doing, McKay!"

He jerked back as well, his eyes widening in surprise. Then he started talking, one arm waving in the general direction of the door to the corridor, the other waving in the general direction of Carson's office. He looked behind him, and I could see a part of the chair he must have been sitting in, and then his head whipped around to me again. He looked both hopeful and pleased with himself. Not generally a good combination when he used that look on me.

"What?" Gingerly I wiggled my self back up into a sitting position. Rodney was still making like he was semaphoring to the main land, his mouth going a mile a minute. "What!"

He stopped suddenly and gave me that frown that said _You aren't listening to me and I'm trying to tell you something that will blow your socks off._ _Possibly literally, but I'm pretty sure that won't happen...maybe. _I saw the little lightbulb blink in his eyes and he grabbed his PDA from the chair.

"_Carson said you could maybe leave when you woke up. Are you awake? I have some clothes but I can't find your boots. Your other ones smelled like they were way overdue for cleaning anyway. Clothes, not boots."_

Jeez. The man even _writes_ like he talks.

"Yes, I'm awake, thank you." He frowned again and made that air patting motion. "I'm trying!" He pointed a thumb down. "Better?" The thumb kept descending. "Too bad!"

Beckett saundered over, stethoscope hanging around his neck. He commandeered the PDA and wrote, "_How you feeling?"_

We eyed each other while I weighed how much to tell him. Too much and he wouldn't let me out. Not enough, and he wouldn't let me out on the general principle that I was lying about what hurt. I tried to keep my voice low. "Stiff...I know the location of every bruise."

"_Headache?_"

I thought about it. "Not much."

He went through the rest of the possible side effects of playing human slingshot, leaving out only body parts falling off and changes in hair color.

"_Blood work looks fine. No concussion. Nothing broken. You're going to be pretty sore."_

I tried to look like was both agreeing and manfully able to handle it without sitting around in the infirmary.

Carson paused to give me a suspicious look. Maybe I over did it.

He fished a piece of paper out of his pocket. "_Follow up care for your ears._" He pointed out number three on the list. _"Nothing in your ears. No water. No soap. No comm."_

Well, I couldn't use a comm right now anyway.

We went down to number five. It was a list of symptoms that should make me return to the infirmary. Number six was a warning about loss of equilibrium and to be careful about sharp movements. When he started to point at number eight, I said, "I know I'm just a pilot, Carson, but even the Air Force requires us to demonstrate basic literacy."

I caught Rodney's eye roll and decided maybe his next ancient artifact didn't really need my special touch.

But eventually we negotiated my release. I would be off duty for 72 hours, and if things were going well, could return to light duty after that. No flying, of course. Wasn't even worth asking about.

When Carson smiled, I snatched up the clothes McKay had brought, broke the record for changing in the infirmary bathroom, and grabbed Rodney to drag him out before Beckett changed his mind. Rodney suddenly pulled back, and turned around. Carson was holding my boots in his hand, an innocent smile on his face. The man really knows how to get attention.

The walk back to my room was surprisingly tiring. People kept nodding and talking to me, waiting for my reply except I didn't have a clue what they'd said. They weren't as bad as the ones who popped out from labs we passed, startling me when they appeared in my peripheral vision without an auditory warning. Rodney tried to help by jotting conversations down on the PDA, but what was I suppose to say in reply to _LD: hi minute for help say no_.

Zelenka saw us go by and came out with a smile. He must have been having a good day. Nothing smelled burned, his glasses were still straight and on his nose, and his hair didn't have that singed look. He started to say something, but before I could give my explanation for the fourteenth time, Rodney put a hand on my shoulder. The two of them exchanged comments, and Radek took the PDA and wrote for a moment. _"Glad you are all right. Not to be making habit of being human cannonball."_

"Good advice. I'll keep it in mind."

Radek frowned and looked at the PDA again. _"Stupid."_

"What!" I said in surprise.

"_Not you!"_ He shoved his glasses farther up his nose and patted the front of my shirt. "_Sorry. Meant this stupid. Am thinking."_

Um...o-o-okay.

With a vague smile, Radek hurried back into his lab, apparently forgetting we were standing here. Rodney rolled his eyes and wagged his head, making a circular movement around his ear with one finger.

"Leave the man to his work." I started back down the hallway, and McKay hurried to catch up with me. "I don't need an escort to my own room, Rodney." He just shrugged and gave me his _I'm ignoring that incredibly stupid remark _look.

Even though all the room doors looked pretty much the same, there's something about your own room door. Seeing the scuff mark near the floor where Rodney had kicked it in a fit of pique, the tiny chip out of the frame where Kavanaugh had thrown a metal clipboard when I wouldn't come out. Of course, I hadn't actually been _in_ the room at the time, but little details like that had never stopped him before.

Sighing a little, I thought the door open...and found everything I owned covered with fire suppressant foam. And not that nice, biodegradable stuff the Ancients used. No...this was the sticky, powdery stuff that comes in cannisters. My bed, any clothes that had been left out, the floor, even the shower. Why in the world would anyone spray chemical foam in the bathroom!

"What the hell!..."

Rodney already had a hand to one ear, calling it in. He jotted on the PDA and held it out to me. "_We'll never get this cleaned up by tonight. You'll have to bunk in with me."_

That was just the topper to a wonderful day. For one thing, the man snored. Loudly. Never mind that I probably wouldn't be able to hear it. I needed some down time, and Rodney's idea of down time involved doing only three things at once, instead of five.

"I am NOT staying in your room!"


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you very much for the encouraging reviews! I apologize for the lag in updating, but my computer felt chapter three was not up to its standards...and ate it. Let's try again.

**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Three:

So I sat on the cot Lorne had brought to Rodney's room and thought. Why would anyone want to redecorate my room in Early Fire Extinguisher? I didn't come up with an answer, but from the looks of people bustling in and out of McKay's lab, no one else had, either.

Apparently our resident genius-among-geniuses had notified everyone within four astronomical units what had happened because I'm pretty sure half of the night staff and some of the day staff had appeared to speculate. Ronon strode through the crowd, looked around until he made eye contact with me, and then faded out into the corridor where he practiced his support column imitation. He looked rather displeased, which caused everyone else coming and going to make an unusually wide arc around him as they passed.

Lorne, McKay and eventually Elizabeth had a lively discussion going but it was amazing–not being able to hear rendered me invisible. I'd tried to join in, but no one looked at me or made an effort to tell me what was going on. The more I was ignored the angrier I got. "Fine!" I'd yelled, which got me an absent pat on the shoulder from Elizabeth.

That was the last straw. Lorne's Marines popping up and disappearing in my peripheral vision was making me dizzy, and someone was trying to drive a nail into my brain through my ear. I turned to stomp out of the room but I must have moved too fast because generally furniture doesn't slide around the edges of a wall like that. I caught my balance on the second step and continued out into the hall. So what if I couldn't sleep in my room tonight? It wasn't like this place was booked solid for the Super Bowl.

I'd only made it a couple of steps before Ronon detached himself from the wall and oh so casually blocked any more forward movement.

"Get out of the way," I'd snarled, looking up at him. Big mistake. My ass would have hit the floor if he hadn't reached out to snag the front of my shirt and kept me from tipping over backwards. He didn't say anything...just gave me a tiny raise of his eyebrows and ostentatiously set me back on my feet. "Thanks." I took a step to the right, he took one to the left. I reversed, and he followed. "Cut it out, Dex!"

His hand motioned. "_Wait._"

"I'm tired of waiting. In fact, I'm just plain tired! Now get out of the way!"

He shook his head. "_No_." Then he raised his head, looking like he was on the scent of something interesting. I followed his look and the lab was emptying. Elizabeth had already gone and Lorne was rounding up his squad. McKay came over, looking triumphant. Not a good sign.

He scribbled on the PDA. "_Hi, Roomy!_"

"No, no, no!" I started to shake my head, but that made me dizzy, too.

"_E. said you stay here tonight. In case of emergency. Medical emer. Because you can't use comm._"

"That's just too bad, because I'm _not_ staying here!"

"_E. said here or infirmary. Choose._"

Damn.

And I could already see two of Lorne's people bringing a folding cot and blankets down the hall.

"At least let me get some of my own things!" I was starting to sound childish, even to myself.

One of the Marines swung a pack off his back and held it out to me. Ronon deftly intercepted it, opened and searched it, and then handed it on to me.

"No shaving cream bombs in there?" Sarcasm was wasted on Ronon. Giving me a truly wicked grin and a little flip of his hand, he signaled _stay_ and turned to follow the retreating Marines. "Arf! Arf!" I called after him.

I sank down on the cot, the pack in my hands. I was pretty sure I'd already had two afternoons today–we came back through the gate from planetary late afternoon to Atlantis late morning–and my eyes felt like they were full of grit. And God my ear hurt. Whatever Carson had done to it in the infirmary had definitely worn off. I fumbled around in my pocket and found the papers I'd shoved in there when I'd escaped from the infirmary. Maybe I should check and see what Carson had to say.

As I unfolded them, a small envelope fell in my lap. "_For pain. Take both. See me in the morning. B._"

Rodney tapped me on the knee with his PDA. "_Ear hurt?_" He looked worried...rolling the stylus back and forth in his fingers. I sighed.

"Some."

His expression said _liar–give me a break._ "_Take pills. Go to bed._"

I glared. He wasn't impressed. I'm really going to have to work on the glare.

I bent down to unlace my boots and thought I was going to throw up. I felt sweat break out along my hairline and tried to take deep breaths. No way was I going to try sitting back up again for a minute. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and a wisp of warm air on my cheek. I opened my eyes and Rodney was peering at me, anxiously repeating something.

"Just a little dizzy. I'm fine." A couple more deep breaths and my feet stopped doing the two-step without me. I managed to get one boot untied, but when I sat up to pull it off some poltergeist started stirring up the furniture again. I felt the blood drain from my face and only more deep breaths made everything stop the whirlwind imitation. I felt a tug at my foot and opened my eyes to see Rodney pulling my boot off.

"I can do that! Just give me a minute!"

He paused, then threw the PDA in my lap. "_Sure. I can tell. My room is a no vomit zone. Sit still, shut up._"

I gritted my teeth. Unless I wanted to sleep in my boots, I'd guess I'd have to let him help.

"Gee, Rodney. Usually I only get this kind of service after I take the girl out to dinner and a couple of drinks. You're definitely a cheap date."

He dropped my right foot and gave me a look. _Asshole_, it said, very clearly. I could feel him fumble with the laces at my left foot, and that boot came off as well.

With both feet back on the floor I took a breath and stood up. _Up_ wasn't as bad as _bend_, but it still wasn't a pleasant feeling. McKay steadied me at the elbow until the floor stopped rocking. "I just want to use the bathroom, Rodney. And no matter how cheap a date you are, you stay on _this_ side of the door."

He had that mutinous look on his face–the one he got just before he did the exact opposite of whatever someone had told him to do–but I shut the door and left him fuming. Took me a while to take care of business because my head didn't appreciate changes in position. I hadn't felt like this since the last time I got seasick. I swore I would be a lot more sympathetic to people who complained of motion sickness.

I opened the door and there he stood, arms folded across his chest, staring like he could cut a window in the metal with just his steely gaze. "Nice pose you got going there, McKay, but I'd go with something a little more friendly for that statue you're hoping someone will carve of you."

I ignored him as he fussed around me, walked carefully back to the cot and sat down gratefully. A powerbar and a cup of water appeared in my line of sight.

"_Better to take C's pills with a little food."_

I wasn't sure my stomach wanted any food at the moment, but he was already unwrapping the powerbar–fake strawberry–and putting it in my hand. The smell didn't make me want to puke, and he had a point. The bites I took stayed down, so I finished it, Rodney making little _eat up_ motions whenever I looked like I might stop. Then he handed me the water and scooped up the envelope with the two little pink pills from where I'd dropped them on the cot. I didn't want to take them, but someone was setting up a quilting bee in my ear, and little quilters were jamming needles behind my right eye and down the right side of my jaw.

I grimaced, and he shoved them both under my nose again. _Don't be stupid_, said the look on his face.

I took them, drained the cup, and gingerly lay down. For a moment, I thought the powerbar was going to make an unwanted reappearance, but I managed to keep it down. And I actually did feel a little better stretched out flat. Rodney rocked me to pull the blankets out from under me and I gasped with the sudden movement. "No! Stop!" I clenched my eyes shut and tried to convince my stomach that the room wasn't really swinging around in circles.

A hand patted me on the shoulder, then on the face. "Not so fast, please!"

Another pat on the shoulder, and nothing for a minute. Then a soft weight settled down over me. I opened my eyes, and Rodney had an arm full of blankets. Geez...did he think I was going to freeze to death in the middle of the night?

But Carson's little pills were starting to work, and I was tired. I let him flutter around as long as I could, then told him it was enough. He held the PDA in front of my face.

"_Will work in lab some tonight. Me. Not you. Carson in morning. You. Not me. Z said meet him for breakfast. Both. You and me. Not him and C. Blink lights if you need something. Tonight. Not at breakfast._"

Thank God, someone was evicting the quilters. Too bad someone couldn't straighten out Rodney's tenses. It's a wonder the man ever got anything published. There was probably a whole ward somewhere just of editors who had been forced to read through his journal papers.

The room lights blinked off and the door to Rodney's lab closed. Although the quilters were leaving, there was still all the humming, whining, occasional clicks and general static of angry auditory nerves. And the dark made me nervous. I got this feeling something was in the room with me. After me. Taking advantage of my not being able to hear it stalking me. I tried to talk myself out of it, but it wasn't working. Before I had a full-fledged panic attack, I thought the lights back on. I must have been sloppy from Carson's pills, because Rodney came through the lab door like the floor was greased.

His anxious face looked down at me and his hands were twisting together and then separating. I got a hand out from under one of the blankets and waved in his general direction. "Don't turn the lights out. Creepy." My body was getting too heavy to move, and I let my hand drop back on the blanket.

It must have been blurring from the pain pills, but Rodney seemed to have a look of sympathy. The lights dimmed down, but not so far that objects in the room completely disappeared. I felt him tuck my hand back under the covers and said, "I don't think I'm up to Zelenka in the morning."

McKay patted me on the shoulder and pointed to his lab door. Confused, I watched him walk away, back to his sanctorum. The lights in the lab were bright, and he left the door partly open. Dr. Rodney McKay–creator of nightlights for panicky pilots. And as ridiculous as it sounded, I did feel better. I let my eyes close.


	4. Chapter 4

Wow! Thanks everyone for the encouragement and nice comments! I say again that all errors are strictly mine. I may even fix them, if I can figure out how the edit feature works!

**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Four:

So I sat in the dining room, turning over in my hands a PDA and comm Zelenka had brought with him. I didn't make it for breakfast, so I was claiming this was brunch. He was very pleased with whatever he was trying to show me, and I let him take it back and demonstrate it for me.

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I had slept pretty soundly, waking myself up only once when I rolled over onto my right ear. I tried to see what time it was but I couldn't get my watch in focus. I decided it was quarter after too-damned-early, and went back to sleep.

I woke slowly the next time, and took inventory before trying to move. Seems a lot of my body had gone out to a party without me. I was stiff, bruised, and my wrists had joined the collection of aching joints. Must not have gotten tucked in tight enough when I landed yesterday. I had a vague headache and the quilters were trying to sneak back into my right ear, but the noise was a lot better in my left. Now when I covered the right ear, it sounded more like I was at the bottom of a barrel, and a there was a waterfall nearby. Covering the left ear just gave me all the static and interesting percussion back beat I'd had when I'd gone to bed.

I pushed the blankets back and started to sit up. Slowly. The dizziness was still there, but not as bad. I must have made enough noise to attract attention because Teyla came around into my field of view. She gave me a pleased smile.

"...mo..."

"Hey! I heard some of that! Good morning!" Then my brain caught up with the rest of me. "What are you doing here?" I pulled the blankets back up a little. Not that I mind pretty women in my bedroom, its just that I like it better when I know about them _before_ I wake up.

"We ...ot...wat to leave...oo...owne." And I swear there was a little impish smile when she saw me tugging on the blankets.

"Leave me alone?" I was getting long vowels and some hard consonants, but that left a lot of the English language still lost in the static.

A quick frown. "No! ...ot...owne."

"Ah. You didn't want to leave me alone. Okay." I looked around. Rodney's bed was missing all the blankets but didn't look slept in. Teyla had turned the chair around from McKay's desk. It looked like she had been mending a piece of equipment; there were scraps of leather and some metal circles.

"Um...where's Rodney?"

She shrugged a little and smiled again. I got a couple of sounds out of her answer, but she spoke too fast and I couldn't catch enough to assemble a reasonable guess.

"Never mind." I wanted to use the bathroom, but I wasn't sure I could stand up. Teyla tapped her earpiece and I saw and heard a "b" at the beginning of her conversation, and figured she'd just let Carson know I was awake. I managed to get sitting up straight and let the room settle down. I started to push the blankets back down again, and Teyla rose gracefully to come over to the side of the cot.

"I'm good. Just going to the bathroom."

She nodded and folded back the blankets from my legs. She held out a hand and I thought about it for a moment.

"Let me get my feet under me, first." She watched while I cautiously rotated on the cot, getting one foot and then the other planted firmly on the floor. Things swung around me a bit, but I was pretty sure I could handle it. I scooted to the edge of the cot, took a deep breath, and pushed myself up.

Teyla's stronger than she looks. Good thing, too, or I would have left my face print on McKay's floor. She caught me by my upper arms and stood me back up. Between the stiffness of bruising and mistreated joints, and the tendency for the world to square dance around me, it took me a couple of minutes before I was sure I was going to _stay_ standing up.

"Really, Teyla. I'm fine." I took a couple of tentative steps and she slipped to my side and put an arm around my waist. She also gave me a patented Rodney McKay eye roll. "And I saw that."

The impish smile was back, but I didn't resist the support. The room still had a disconcerting tendency to swirl around a bit, and somehow having her steady grip on my shirt helped ground me.

I wouldn't let her in the bathroom, but she did get a change of clothes for me and toss them in. I know, I know. It isn't like I have anything she hasn't seen before, or hadn't had her care for me when I've been sick or injured, but I like to maintain the illusion I have some control over when that happens. Besides, its easier when I'm in the field, or the infirmary. It just seemed _wrong_ in McKay's room. I decided I didn't want to pursue that thought any farther.

When I opened the door, Carson was standing in the room, smiling. I walked carefully back to the cot. If I didn't move too fast, and didn't pick my feet up too high, it wasn't bad.

We were able to make it through his exam using a combination of what I could hear, what I could guess at, and his PDA. He cautioned me again about dizziness. Yup. Got that one down pat. I got a bottle of something to help stop the vertigo, or at least slow it down, and Tylenol with codeine for the pain. I hate codeine. Makes me feel slow and stupid. However, as the alternative was to continue to allow the quilters and all their little needles have at the inside of my ear, I accepted it with a grimace.

Teyla reappeared with a glass of juice and showed it to Beckett for his approval.

Carson shook three pills into my hand–two of the Tylenol and one of the other. He handed me the juice and scribbled on his PDA. "_Take these now. As soon as you feel more steady, I want you to eat._"

The idea of eating wasn't appealing at the moment. "I don't know about the eating part, Carson." He backed off a bit. Must still be too loud. "Sorry."

"_I know. But this should make it easier. Don't try for a lot at one time. You'll be more comfortable if you can just eat a small amounts throughout the day._" I got a pat on the shoulder. "_I'll check with you later._" He paused to talk to Teyla and then left.

There wasn't anything I could really lean against–the cot was more or less in the middle of the floor–so I pulled my legs up and sat cross legged with the pillow behind me, and sipped the rest of the juice. It was something from off world. I didn't recognize it, but the flavor was sort of grape-like, without the astringency of grape juice. I was surprised when I finished it.

Teyla took the glass and held out her other hand. "Do...eel...ike...eat...?"

I looked around the room. The furniture was sliding back and forth, but wasn't moving as far or as fast. "Give me a couple minutes, Teyla. Let's let Carson's little pharmacy have a chance to prove itself."

She smiled in understanding, and turned her chair back around to the desk. She set the empty glass near her project, and picked up some kind of metal working tool.

That was one of the things about Teyla. Maybe because her people had already been through so much, she had a kind of calm that seemed to say _things are under control_ or _things will be under control soon._ McKay tended to be very focused, but that wasn't the same as calm. Not to mention the man was incapable of sitting still for any length of time. Radek was beginning to let us see a wicked sense of humor, but still alternated between nervous frustration and nervous delight. Ronon had been a Runner for seven years before we found each other, and I think he still didn't trust himself to be calm. Elizabeth always _seemed_ calm, but I think its diplomatic calm. Don't let anyone see you sweat, kind of calm. Like if she could keep absolute control over her own emotions, she could extend that control to situations around her. I've seen it work–seen scientists settle down enough to solve a crisis, junior Marines win skirmishes against the odds–and even been at the receiving end. Somehow, situations seem better if the person in charge doesn't look like they're panicking.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and jerked my head up. Damn codeine. I was going to sleep sitting up.

"...eat..." She wasn't giving me a choice.

I let her help me up, and it really was better. I was still walking on egg shells, but the Alice in Wonderland feeling had allayed considerably.

Still, I was glad to sit down again in the dining room. I guess it takes a lot of energy not to fall over.

I was nibbling toast and contemplating some kind of cooked cereal grain when Zelenka showed up. He plopped himself down across the table from me and started talking a mile a minute. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he shoved a comm and a PDA over to my side. I tried to keep up, but he was talking too fast and the sounds I could get wouldn't arrange themselves into words.

I waved a hand in front of me. "Whoa there, cowboy. Any chance of slowing this train down?" Teyla gave me a look that said she hadn't gotten the cultural references, but I didn't feel up to trying to explain them right then. And I had misjudged how loud I was because several people from surrounding tables had looked over in surprise. I gave them what I hoped was a cheery grin. "Sorry."

Radek took the PDA and transceiver back. He booted up the PDA and clicked on the comm. Holding the little mic in front of his face he said, "How are you today, Colonel?"

I knew that was exactly what he said because the words had typed themselves out on the PDA screen. He laughed at the look on my face and continued, "Writing on PDA was inefficient. This is better, no?"

"This is better, yes!" I snatched the comm away from him and held it out to Teyla. "Say something!"

She looked at Radek and me with amusement, then said, "It is good to see you feeling better. Please finish your toast."

I watched the words scroll by. "Cool! Radek! This is just...cool!"

He gave that _aw shucks its nothing_ little finger wave, but I could see he thought it was seriously cool himself.

"Does it work with all the comms?"

Zelenka shook his head and took back the mic. "No. I adapted only this one. It is small rewrite of common software program. Not perfect, but good enough until you recover, I am thinking."

Radek and I played with his little invention for most of an hour. During which time Teyla plied me with more toast, brought me more juice when I asked for coffee, and finally took it away until I agreed to eat some of the cooked cereal. It was like when my mother would take away my toy airplanes at meals and not give them back until I'd finished. Radek and I both glared at her, but she seemed to be immune. However, we did determine it had a pretty decent range, at least to across the room, and that it didn't handle accents very well.

When I had eaten enough to satisfy her for the moment, she held out the PDA. "Major Lorne tells me it will still be several hours before your room will be habitable. Dr. Beckett said you are not to exert yourself. Would you like to return to Dr. McKay's room and rest?"

I liked the idea of not moving around much. Radek's special PDA had certainly distracted me for a while, but I could feel myself getting restless. I didn't want to read, I didn't want to do paperwork, I couldn't exercise, and although the Tylenol with codeine was keeping the quilters at bay I was out of sorts...so the best thing left to do was annoy Rodney.

"Nah. Can you locate McKay?"

"He was in Lab Four when I came here," Radek offered.

"Then I think I want to go to Lab Four." I stood up too fast and had to hold onto the edge of the table until my eyes stopped rolling around. Teyla had jumped up in concern, but I got my feet under me and smiled.

"I'm good. Just gonna have to learn not to move so fast for a while."

"I am not certain going to Dr. McKay's lab is what Dr. Beckett meant when he said 'rest'," she frowned.

"I'll be all right. I can irritate him sitting or standing. He's not the only one who can multi-task."

Teyla clearly didn't believe me, but graciously handed me off to Radek, who offered to walk me down. We made the same rate of progress as an arthritic turtle, and I had a bad moment going down a set of stairs, but we got to Lab Four without either of us falling on our faces.

Sure enough...there was Rodney, nose in his laptop, a couple of lab techs in orbit. They looked anxious...he looked superior. A variety of small items were spread around the workbench, but I couldn't tell what he was doing.

He looked up as I walked in, and scowled. He started to talk, and the lab techs fled like the devil himself had appeared in the middle of the floor. "Heads up!" I said, and tossed him the transceiver.

"It's a comm. So what." He turned it over in his hands and set it on the workbench, continuing to glare. His glare wasn't as good as mine, but he was improving. "And what are you doing out of bed? You can't tell me Carson's Voodoo book had a note that said 'release Air Force Colonel with the brains of a watermelon today'."

I ignored him. Rodney hates it when he's ignored. Instead, I held up the PDA, where the end of his last sentence was still displayed. "Cool, huh? Radek made it for me!"

He motioned imperiously. "Give me that."

I sat down on a stool across the table from him and handed over the PDA. He fussed around with it a minute, then handed it back dismissively. "I could have done that."

"I'm sure you could have, Rodney."

"And you're too loud."

"Not a problem. You're too soft. It evens out."

He paused to glance at his laptop screen, then looked back. "Well, you're walking without looking like the living dead. That's something."

"Yup, but bored."

"Oh, lucky me. You're bored, and Carson has probably told you you're confined to your room, except wait! Your room still looks like the morning after a frat party, so you decide to come and interrupt what I'm doing instead. And I repeat...does Beckett know you're here?"

"Yes, definitely, and probably not."

He threw his hands up in the air and started rearranging some of his little Ancient bits closer to himself. "I am _so_ not going to listen to one of Beckett's lectures on following medical advice if he finds you here. So how about if you just return to wherever you're supposed to be and let me get on with my work."

I snatched back the comm. "Fine!" Rodney McKay didn't have the market cornered on bad attitudes, and I didn't think I had the patience today to cajole him into amusing me.

I stood up too quickly again, and the room whirled around. I grabbed for the stool and took a half step to regain my balance. It possible Rodney levitated to my side of the workbench, because after I'd taken a couple of deep breaths to convince brunch to stay where it was I opened my eyes to see him taking the comm out of my hand. He pulled the stool closer and shoved it under my butt.

"Fine! Stay if you want! But there's no throwing up in my lab!"

I sat back down and let out a sigh. It did feel better to stay in one place.

"Well, what makes you think I want to stay here? Maybe I'll go see what Zelenka's doing."

He pointed a finger at me while he went back to his laptop. "Sit down. Shut up. Since when is Zelenka's work more interesting or important than mine? You're staying until you stop looking like you're going to faint when you stand up."

"Pass out."

"Fall on your face and bleed on my floor."

"Not gonna happen."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I can see how steady you feel." His face changed with mercurial speed. Its one of the things I like about Rodney. There's no pause for transition. He just goes full speed ahead from one emotion to another. It can be difficult when he's in a snarky mood, but kind of exhilarating to keep up with. "Er, how _do_ you feel? Are you hungry? Did you get anything to eat? Do you want a drink?"

"Teyla made sure I ate. Really, I'm fine. Carson says I'm going to be dizzy for a while yet, but gave me some pills that help. Got some for the pain in the right ear, too. All in all, not 100, but better than I expected."

He made a noise the PDA didn't try to print out. "Teyla. She probably fed you smelly leaves and toasted grass." He rummaged around in a drawer on his side of the table and pulled out several power bars, a bag of something that looked like jerky, a package of powdered Kool-Aid, something that might be bread sticks, and a snaplid container of dried fruit. Jeez! The man has his own grocery store hiding in here! He shoved everything except the Kool-Aid over towards me. "You can start on these. And if you ever tell anyone I have this stuff, I'll deny it to my last breath and make sure you never see another Milky Way for the rest of your life."

I smiled. McKay must have a doting grandmother somewhere in his background. His answer to most problems was to feed them. Well, except when he was the entree. The Wraith didn't count because although they were a problem, 'feeding' them involved allowing them to suck all the life out of you and leave you a dry husk decades older than only a few minutes previously. I'd seen the leftovers of that kind of feeding and didn't want to see any more.

A touch to my hand brought me out of my thoughts. Rodney was looking worried again. He had brought over a mug of water, and had already opened one of the power bars and was holding it out to me.

"Just thinking, Rodney." He looked relieved, and I took the power bar. While he checked on his laptop again, I sipped the water, which felt good in my codeine-dried mouth, and read the power bar wrapper. Guava? Who in the world thought guava would make a good flavor for a survival food?

He banged on the table to get my attention. "As long as you're here, we might as well do some sorting."

Sorting?

He rolled his hand in a _come on, you know what I'm talking about_ motion. "Sorting! I have a whole box of Ancient technology we've picked up here and there. Well, actually more than one box, but I think we can start with just one. Box, that is. I've already taken out and categorized the pieces that did something when I touched them, but there's still a lot that didn't do anything. You can sit there and eat, and touch them one at a time. See if anything lights up for you."

"Ah, none of these things are likely to bite, sting, electrocute, impale or otherwise perform actions I'm not likely to appreciate, are they?"

He looked offended. "Of course not! Well, I'm pretty sure not, at least the ones that activated for me were clearly just pieces of something else." He was wandering into blustering. "No! Of course not. Probably."

Well, it was better than trying to read _War and Peace._

So we settled into a routine. Rodney had happily carried over a box of miscellaneous bits and pieces from one of the store rooms and set the box carefully on the end of the table. He dithered a bit, then decided he wanted to start with the items he already had spread out. He would point to one, I would touch it or hold it, and then he would spend 15 minutes or more typing furiously and talking to himself. When he noticed the mug was empty he'd take it over to the sink and absently refill it while still talking to himself. Most of the stuff didn't do anything for me, either, but I did get a couple to vibrate or light up.

After a while I my eyes started to get that dry scratchy feeling that comes with being tired and trying to keep them open. I propped up my chin in the palm of one hand and closed them once in a while. I had to grin, though. Every time I opened my eyes, one of McKay's carefully hoarded treats had mysteriously migrated closer to my side of the table. My elbow looked like it was being surrounded by a squad of Grocery Store Guerillas.

I was half dozing, sort of aimlessly sweeping the table for the next piece of junk when I was startled by Rodney's loud, "No! NO!" My hand was slapped away and I was startled enough that I lost my balance and nearly banged my chin on the table top.

"What the hell, Rodney!" The sudden movement had started the lab swinging around in a very unpleasant fashion, and the quilters were taking advantage of the distraction to try and sneak a few more needles into my ear.

"No! Stay! Don't move!" He was yelling loud enough that I could make out his words with only some background interference. He practically flew around the table and pounced on the hand I'd been using to poke at things, pushing it back towards my body.

"Rodney, what is going on!" I was angry at being manhandled and couldn't see what the big emergency was.

"Don't move!" Rodney repeated, and after making sure I was going to sit still like a good boy, rushed to the other side of the room and came back with what looked like long wooden tongs. He separated out one of his precious Ancient bits and turned it over. A red X had been drawn on a flat side, next to what looked like a string of tiny numbers.

"This is not supposed to be here." He was practically shaking.

"All right." I spoke slowly, trying to help him calm down. "Take a couple of deep breaths and tell me what the problem is."

Some color came back in his face, and he made an angry gesture at the gizmo. "This is not an uncataloged item."

I motioned him to continue, one eye on the PDA.

Another deep breath. "You have to understand, Colonel, that this is a laboratory. As fascinating as Ancient technology is, it doesn't do any good to just wander around, chaotically playing with anything we come across. It has to be logged, cataloged using a variety of defining fields, and carefully studied." He motioned again at the offending widget. "Items we test that demonstrate harmful properties are marked with a red X to make sure people with the ATA gene don't handle them by accident."

He set down the wooden tongs long enough to type on his laptop. "And here it is." He turned the monitor around to show me, but the words slid around back and forth sickenly.

"Bottom line, McKay."

He turned the laptop back around. "You'll remember this one, Colonel. It gave you second degree burns when you picked it up, and was still hot enough to scorch my hands when I tried to catch it when you dropped it."

Oh, yeah. I remember that one. Hard to forget blistered fingers, not to mention Beckett's stretching exercises--to make sure the healing tissue didn't pull my hand out of shape.

"Well, how the hell did it wind up out here?" Now I was pissed off.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? It isn't like I picked it up and carried it over, and then hid it carefully in all this other stuff, with the warning nearly covered. If I hadn't seen part of the red marking, either one of us could be watching Beckett smear goop on our hands as we speak." He disappeared into the storage area he'd first retrieved the box from, then came back out. "There's definitely a gap in the storage unit. But I don't understand. The red marked items are kept locked in a glass fronted cabinet, and that cabinet is clearly labeled as dangerous. The glass isn't broken and the cabinet is still locked."

He made to pick up the gizmo with the wooden tongs and I interrupted. "Are you sure you should do that?"

"Its fine as long as I don't actually touch it. Wood appears to be as good an insulator in this galaxy as it is in ours." He got a hold of the whatever with the tongs and carried it cautiously back to the store room. He returned and sat down with a sigh.

"You know, Rodney, you have a point." I was thinking this through, and thinking more codeine wouldn't be a bad idea. But I didn't want to take it just yet, knowing my brain would turn to lint. "You _wouldn't_ have taken that thingie out and left it on your workbench. In fact, no one with the gene would have dared. But somehow, it got out of that locked cabinet and appeared right where you would have eventually picked it up. I don't think I like the sound of that."

McKay blanched. "You think someone did this on purpose?"

"I don't know what to think right now." And that was the truth. The quilters were trickling back in, and the room was refusing to stay still. It was time for another set of pills and I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders.

Rodney pulled another comm out of a workbench drawer and deftly set it in place. "Major Lorne, this is McKay. There's been an incident in Lab Four." There was a pause, and then he continued. "No, no, there aren't any injuries, so get off the line, Beckett." Another pause. "Yes, Sheppard's here, but that doesn't automatically mean we've blown something up, set it on fire, caused it to melt...well, all right, so it _does_ often mean that, but not this time! So get down here, Major, and pretend you have more training than just how to shoot things." He clicked off the comm and dropped it back in the drawer.

"I think its probably better that I not be here when Lorne arrives," I said casually. "After all, I'm on medical leave." I didn't even get all the way up before Rodney was pressing me back down on the lab stool.

"You're staying here. You're a witness. And you look like shit. So just _sit._"

"How long have you people had me confused with canines?" I snarked. But McKay was busy transferring his hoard of food into another drawer. I knew Lorne would find it when he searched the place, and I'm sure McKay knew too, but there wasn't any reason to leave it out in plain view.

"Well, that's too bad, because I have no intention of being here when Lorne comes pounding down with a squad, expecting to see the lab in ruins and one of us nursing a concussion. So I'll talk to you later!"


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you all so much! The feedback is wonderful, (not to mention addictive!). Its nice to hear that people are enjoying the story.

**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Five:

So I sat at McKay's workbench and watched Lorne's squad examine the lab. Turns out I wasn't as fast as I thought I could be, especially with a slightly chubby scientist clutching my shoulder and threatening me with a lifetime of hauntings if I let anything be broken during the search.

Sure enough...Rodney's protests not withstanding, we got a full squad of Marines, a paramedic, half a dozen junior scientists from a variety of fields, at least two engineers, three people with fire rescue equipment ranging from flame resistant blankets to buckets of sand, and one zoologist–who to his credit just sort of looked lost. It was impressive, not to mention a little scary. I was going to have to ask a couple of them just how often they responded to "incident" calls from Rodney.

Radek's PDA set up couldn't handle so many people talking at once, and just started printing out whatever loudest bits of conversation were going on at the time. It was actually kind of entertaining; rather like switching the radio stations every couple of seconds and winding up with bits of songs and advertisements mixed together. I knew standing up was going to be a problem, so I tried to look like I was casually lounging out of the way.

Lorne came over, kitted out in enough armament to take down a small riot, and saluted. I nudged the transceiver closer to him.

"Colonel."

I returned his salute. Sort of. "Major."

He studied me for a moment. "Are you by any chance AWOL from the infirmary, sir?"

So much for lounging casually. "I am not! I was released to my quarters."

"The one ankle deep in dehydrating chemical foam that a crew has been cleaning off every surface, or the one where you have a bed? Sir." He was trying for bland, but I wasn't buying it.

"Dr. Beckett said I was to rest. I'm resting. I look like I'm resting, don't I Major?" A nearby Marine looked over at us. Damn. I glared at her and at least she gulped and moved farther away.

Lorne's face said _and I've got a bridge I can sell you_, but he gamely responded, "Yes, sir. Resting. I can tell."

"Good. Now listen. This is one of Dr. McKay's labs. And we all know Dr. McKay needs to keep his blood sugar up or he becomes..."

"Cranky?"

"No! Sick! Cranky is his natural personality mode."

Lorne made a quick visual sweep of the room and then nodded. "Of course, sir. That's what I meant."

"So, if during the course of your investigation you or your squad should come across any small caches of food that Dr. McKay might have because of his health, they will not be confiscated, tasted, logged, shared among the group, or otherwise disturbed. Will they, Major."

"No, sir. I'm certain we'll find this is a food-free lab." He touched his earpiece and muttered, looking over my head.

"One of the few, I'm sure. I want to talk to you before you leave."

"Yes, sir." He nodded and went over to the Marine coming out of the storage area.

I watched McKay throw out the confused zoologist, and generally badger the rest until they started trickling out, as well. In between, he followed Marines around taking things out of their hands, closing drawers and cupboards they opened, and at one point blocking access to a large device by standing in front of it and apparently yelling. His face was getting red and he looked frazzled.

"Rodney," I called. Wouldn't you know it. For 24 hours I've been sharing my conversation with half of Atlantis, and now he couldn't hear me. "Rodney! _Dr. McKay!_"

He stopped threatening to slice and dice a young Marine with only his hands, and looked up. He went directly from seriously irritated to concerned in one breath. The Marine looked over as well, and I signaled _leave it, danger_. He stepped away and Rodney hurried over.

I tried to lower my voice to sound like I was confiding in him. "Rodney, could you get me some more water? I didn't want Major Lorne to know but I really need to take something before my head falls off." Shameless, I know, but it would keep McKay out of everyone's hair until Lorne could report.

"Oh, God! I knew I shouldn't have let the paramedic leave! Do you feel sick? Do you want to lay down? Oh, wait. Wrong lab. I don't have a cot in this one. You want me to send for a cot? Maybe I should find some blankets. Are you cold? Stephenson left the fire retardant ones but they're kind of heavy and I don't think they're very warm. I could walk you down to the infirmary, or wait! How about if I call Beckett? That would be better than making you walk all the way down there." Just trying to keep up with his babbling as it scrolled across the screen at warp speed made me dizzy. He started rooting around in a drawer but I stopped him before he got his comm on.

"Just water. Lorne will be done before much longer and then you can walk me to my room."

He snatched up the mug and came back with it brimming full. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Beckett? Now you look worse than shit."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, McKay." I found the bottle of pills for the dizziness and downed one. The Tylenol with codeine was going to have to wait until after I'd spoken with Lorne.

I let Rodney fuss around me. I really did feel like crap, but I needed to hear what Lorne had found out. I had gone from one elbow on the table to both, and the quilters in my ear had invited some cloggers to come and perform when Lorne rounded up his squad and sent them out of the lab.

"Report." I sat up straight, only to have the lab do a little jig around me.

"Sir. The storage room is not kept locked. The cabinet with the dangerous items is kept locked, but the key hangs on a hook just inside the doorway. The key presently on the hook fits and operates the cabinet. Use of the room and its contents is not monitored or restricted. The case remains locked and the key is in its place. There was no damage to the cabinet or lock."

"So anyone could have gotten in there, taken out the Widget from Hell and put it on McKay's workbench."

"Yes, sir."

I sighed. "What about my quarters?"

"A standard issue fire extinguisher is missing from Chem lab two. No one noticed, or admitted to noticing, until we discovered it. We have not located the extinguisher used in your quarters."

"I don't really expect you to, Major. After all, we're surrounded by ocean. Easiest thing would be to drop it over the edge and let it sink." I rubbed my right ear, but that only made the quilters mad and they darned all the way down to my teeth. "Status on my room?"

He touched his earpiece and spoke to someone. A moment of listening and he said, "They estimate another hour. You should be able to sleep in your own bed tonight."

Thank, God. "Good work. Keep me appraised."

"Yes, sir, although, may I say you might do better sleeping in the infirmary tonight?"

"You may not. Dismissed."

It looked like he sighed. "Yes, sir." He followed his squad out of the lab and I closed my eyes against the county fair in my head.

A hand resting on my back made me open them again.

"No more screwing around, Sheppard. I heard Lorne say your room isn't ready yet. Either you come back to mine and lay down before you fall down, or I call Beckett and tell him you need a gurney." This was the Determined Rodney. And he actually would call Beckett and blow me in. He may have needed instruction on how to use a gun, but threats apparently came naturally.

"No gurney!" I tried to sound forceful, but that made the quilters mad, too.

I hissed from the pain and he patted me a bit. "Let me get down the Tylenol first, Rodney. You have another power bar I can buffer them with?"

He retrieved his stash and held up two. I chose the peanut butter, and washed it and the codeine down with the rest of the water. "Let's get going before I change my mind and just sleep here."

We plodded back to his room, and I admit my knees were rubbery by the time we made it. When I came out from the bathroom, the blankets were neatly folded on the cot. Either the Housekeeping Fairy had been by or McKay was going to make someone a lovely wife.

I couldn't help letting out a small groan as I gingerly lowered myself onto the cot. I felt McKay tugging at my boots, but even the pulling motion was setting up little waves of vertigo. "Just leave them on." I closed my eyes and a blanket was dropped over my legs.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

I opened my eyes, and there was Ronon, sitting next to my cot, his feet propped up on McKay's bed.

"You aren't Rodney." I rubbed my face and tried to shake the cobwebs out of my brain. Things were sounding better, at least on the left. Still not real clear, but it wasn't too hard to hear him.

"And I thank the gods for that every day."

"But you're here, in his room, because..."

"You are."

"I am."

"You are." He stared at me a minute. "You _do_ know where you are, don't you?"

"Yes I do. I'm just not clear if _you_ know." I looked at my watch. I'd been asleep almost four hours. No wonder I felt disoriented. I sat up, and the dizziness was definitely less. That was a nice surprise.

Ronon gave me a suspicious look. "Maybe I should call Beckett."

I waved the suggestion away. "Nah. I'm just a little fuzzy. Give me a minute."

I made to stand up, and while he didn't offer to help, he also didn't take his feet off McKay's bed. The man has _long_ legs. For a moment my thoughts wandered and I wondered where we had found a bed long enough for him sleep in without his feet hanging off the end. When I pulled myself back together, he was just sitting there, watching. "I just want to go to the bathroom, Ronon." Jeez. I was beginning to feel like I was in school and had to ask permission to use the facilities.

He looked at me for another moment, and then slowly lowered his feet to the floor. I don't think I could do that on a _good_ day.

He was in the same position when I came out. The needle-in-the-ear pain was being held down to a throb, and as long as I concentrated on looking straight ahead, the furniture didn't try to slide back and forth. At least too much.

"Its time for dinner." No _are you hungry_, or _do you feel like eating_, or even _if you don't eat I'll call Carson_. Just a simple declaration. He stood up, and I followed him out to the hallway. He didn't even look back to see if I was there. He moved with the assurance that I was. And as he's a lot bigger than I am, and I doubt the furniture was doing a waltz for him, I followed.

Once we were headed for the dining room, though, he slowed his steps to match mine. There was no small talk, no inquiries as to my health, but when I stumbled over my own feet and would have fallen, a lightening fast hand snatched a fistful of the back of my shirt and held on until both my feet were pointing in the same direction again.

Dinner, though, was a trial. The hearing that worked pretty well in a small, quiet room with only one other person, was not that enthusiastic about working in a large, noisy room with a lot of conversations going. I patted my pockets, but didn't have Zelenka's PDA, and couldn't even remember where I'd left it. I smiled a lot, nodded a little, and excused myself as soon as I could. Ronon managed to eat twice what I did, in the same amount of time, but he didn't have to watch people's faces and try to figure out what they were talking about.

I took the dessert–some kind of cookies–and used puppy eyes to get two extra juice boxes out of one of the cafeteria workers. Hey. If you've got it, you might as well use it, I say.

Ronon followed me out. The hallway was quieter and my abused ears reduced some of the buzzing noise. "I'm just going to my room. You don't need to come along."

I got a shrug in reply, and he paced along next to me until I got to my room. Before I could do anything about opening the door, he put a hand on my chest and held me away. "I'm thinking we should check for any more surprises."

"I don't think that's necessary..." I started, but he glared at me with a _have you taken leave of all common sense?_ look. Maybe I should be taking glaring lessons from him.

He folded down fingers–_three, two, one_–and I thought the door open. He flattened me against the wall and peered around the doorframe. I raised the lights, and nothing jumped out at us, shot at us, dropped things on us, tried to eat us, or even excused itself for being in the wrong room. Considering what usually happens when we open doors, it was practically unnatural.

He searched the bathroom and opened the closet, pulled out the dresser and desk drawers, and even got down on his hands and knees and looked under the bed. Hopefully it wasn't Dust Bunny Season, or I'd have to explain to Elizabeth why he shot the floor full of holes.

I got another shrug. "Looks good. See you tomorrow." He holstered his gun and ambled out of the room. I decided I was glad he was on our side.

I set the cookies and juice boxes on the desk and sank down in my chair. _My_ chair. In _my_ room. With _my_ bathroom that smelled of _my_ soap. It also smelled of industrial cleaner, but that was fading. God, it felt good. As long as I've been in the military I've never been comfortable sharing a room. I've had good roommates, bad roommates, and even invisible ones that worked an alternating shift from mine. But no matter how well I got along with the bunkmate of the rotation, there was always the need to be polite, to balance schedules and responsibilities. I preferred to live alone and just handle things the way I like to handle them. Selfish, maybe, but less stress.

A dull thumping got my attention, and I decided someone was probably at the door. I thought it open, and Radek stood in the hallway, one fist raised.

"Hi, Dr. Z. What's up?"

He smiled. "May I come in?" He reinforced his question with a vague wave from himself towards me. "I did not think you would hear the chimes."

"I don't think I would have either." I motioned him to sit down. "I'm really sorry Radek. I left your wonderful computer program somewhere, and I have to admit I can't remember where."

He reached into his own pockets and pulled out the PDA and comm. "No problem. Rodney bring them to me, say you too tired to remember my 'toy'."

I snatched back the PDA and booted it up. He kept the transceiver. "Well, he was right about me being tired, but wrong about the rest. This 'toy' of yours saved me a lot of hassle today. My hearing is improving, but its frustrating as hell trying to figure out what people are saying in a noisy area."

"Yes, I think the same. I saw you leave dining room. I also see you smile pretty and get extra juice boxes."

I laughed and handed over a cherry one. We divided the cookies between us, as he filled me on the latest plot to drive Kavanaugh crazy.

"Kavanaugh very proud man, yes, you know?"

I nodded in agreement, then grimaced when the furniture continued bouncing up and down for a moment.

"Very proud. Too proud, I am thinking. Not good for person to be too proud, especially Kavanaugh. In particular, he believes himself to be snazzy dresser."

"Snazzy?" I repeated. That wasn't a word I would have used to describe Kavanaugh.

"I say he _believe_. I not say he _is._"

"Right. Sorry. Continue."

"Kavanaugh too important to do own snazzy laundry." He shook his head, his wispy hair fluffing out like it was full of static. "He hire woman from mainland. Very nice lady. But he not satisfied with her work. Sometimes too much starch. Sometimes not enough. Not sew on buttons right." He shook his head again, miming how horrible he felt about this. "We, myself and others, find nice lady crying after he say terrible things to her. She quit, she say. We agree and tell her to go home–we will finish laundry for her."

I started to smile.

"But we not very good with snazzy clothes. Terrible mistake made. Soap get mixed up. Now Kavanaugh's snazzy clothes smell very much like onion, and have interesting tie-dye effects." He put on a look of innocent consternation. "No idea what happen! Kavanaugh cannot blame nice lady–she leave before doing laundry. And amazing! No one know who did laundry and ruin snazzy clothes!"

I was trying not to choke on the cookie crumbs when Carson came in. He gave me a concerned look, but I managed to convince him I was all right. Zelenka stood up and gave me a wink.

"See you tomorrow, Colonel." He saundered out the door, his hands in his pockets.

I got my breathing under control, and gulped some juice to wash down the crumbs.

"Well, let's take a look, shall we?" He poked in my ears some, and I offered to put his scope in an entirely different place in his body if he didn't stop. "Still tender, eh?" He declared I didn't have a temperature and was still breathing. I admitted the right ear still hurt like hell and that I was still dizzy.

"There's a certain amount of inflammation there, son. Its going to hurt for a while. How's the medicine working?"

He fussed around a bit more, and I apologized for offering to stick his scope somewhere rude.

"It isn't the first time, and I doubt it'll be the last. Get a good night's sleep, Colonel. I'll see you tomorrow. And don't worry. Yer guard is just outside." He patted me on the arm and stood up.

Guard? "I don't need a guard. I didn't request a guard. I didn't authorize a guard."

Carson gave me a _don't look at me, nobody tells me about these things _shrug. I thought the door open again, and he absently tucked his stethoscope into a pocket. He froze in the doorway, then let out a breath. "This whole place is going bonkers," he declared. "I just saw Kavanaugh go by, and he was wearing a red and purple splotched shirt, and the absolute _worst_ cologne."


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you, thank you, everyone! I'm amused to hear people are having as much fun reading this as I'm having writing it. And I've even been offered chocolate muffins!

**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Six:

I slept pretty well. Codeine always gives me strange dreams, but they were more like clips of bad Disney movies and not so much like something Stephen King would want to use in his next book.

I was pleased to discover my left ear had decided to rejoin the hearing world, and that I didn't feel as dizzy as I had yesterday. That was until I got into the shower. I was feeling pretty smug about successfully washing my hair without getting...much...water in my right ear, when I closed my eyes to rinse. The world immediately tilted, my wet hand slid down the wet tile and I was abruptly sitting on the drain. Apparently Ancients never got dizzy in the shower because that's when I realized there weren't any grab bars.

Afterwards, I dressed comfortably but carefully. I don't know if it had anything to do with losing my balance in the shower, but the quilters were trying to get a convention going, and moving my head too quickly made the world swim around uncomfortably. It actually reminded me of pilot training—high speed maneuvers in particular—but without the comfort of knowing the world will settle down shortly after landing.

A couple of bites from a power bar in my field vest helped settle the pills, and I decided breakfast was an attractive idea. I thought my door open and as I walked out a Marine saluted. I'd forgotten about Carson's comment about a "guard." Scowling at him didn't seem to bother him, so I returned his salute.

"Good morning, sir. Dr. Beckett asks you stop in the infirmary after you've eaten, and Dr. Weir would like to speak to you at 1000 hours. I am to inform Dr. Weir as to whether she should come to the infirmary, or wait for you in her office." He had the easy manner of a career military man and didn't seem to notice his superior wasn't pleased to find him at his present post.

"May I assume Major Lorne ordered this guard detail?"

"Yes, sir." He was attentive without being cowed, and his eyes swept the hallway.

"And did he share a reason with you?"

"To insure your privacy and provide communication links, if needed, sir."

"And if I dismiss you?"

He made brief eye contact. "I am to inform Major Lorne, who, I have been briefed, will inform Dr. Beckett, who, and I quote, 'will drop kick his skinny butt into the infirmary so fast he'll be waitin' for the rest of him to catch up for the rest of the day.' Sir."

I had to think about that for a moment. "Have you had breakfast, Sargent...ah...Mwenda?"

III

I was trailed to breakfast, and then to the infirmary, where Sargent Mwenda finally left me to Carson's tender mercies. I was lectured about getting water in my right ear, lectured about taking things slow, lectured about resting, lectured about avoiding caffeine, and lectured about not paying attention to being lectured. But we were both pleased that my left ear was coming along well, and I just omitted the unexpected crash landing in the shower. He still wouldn't let me use a comm, afraid that the direct auditory input might set back the healing. Well, that was inconvenient, but preferable to permanent hearing loss.

I escaped from the infirmary in time to walk slowly to Elizabeth's office. I tried to take a transporter but had to stop and get off. The damn thing must move too fast or something, because as soon as it started up I thought my stomach would come out the top of my head. So I walked to the control room, smiling and chatting as I went along, trying to look like I always meandered the corridors with my feet spread apart and my eyes locked straight ahead.

Rodney was in Elizabeth's office when I finally arrived, and I got a look-over from both of them.

"How are you feeling, John?" Elizabeth looked concerned, and motioned for me to sit down at the conference table.

"Good. How about yourself?"

She and Rodney both had mugs of coffee, and it smelled like heaven. Carson, however, had been very clear about the effect of caffeine on healing auditory nerves, and as much as I wanted that coffee, I wanted to be able to fly again more. I tried not to think about that teasing aroma, or the first taste in the morning.

She smiled. "Fine, thank you." She looked at me a bit longer but seemed to be satisfied. "Rodney tells me the two of you had a near miss yesterday with a piece of Ancient technology."

McKay had his laptop open in front of him. It occurred to me that it performed the same function as a security blanket. A challenged McKay looked for answers with it, a threatened McKay looked for ways out with it, a pleased McKay paraded around with it, and a frightened McKay occasionally mistook it for body armor.

"And you think this is _funny_, Colonel?" I hadn't realized I'd smiled. And I'd forgotten about the pissed off McKay.

"Sorry. Thinking about something else for a minute."

"Well, try and get all four of the brain cells not involved in methods of using small explosives to concentrate on the problem at hand."

"Rodney..." Elizabeth's voice was almost too soft for me to pick up, but her expression was warning us both. She sipped at her coffee and it was all I could do to stop myself from getting up and finding my own.

"Yes, yes, whatever. The fact is, there was no reason for this item to have been removed from the safe keeping cabinet, and certainly no reason for it to be in my work area. It was already listed in the database, and I was working on items that hadn't been cataloged yet. Not to mention its very painful proclivities, to which even the Colonel here can attest." He poked at his laptop angrily.

"Is it possible one of other scientists took it out and simply forgot to return it?" Elizabeth had her hands folded on the desk in front of her and looked back and forth between us.

"I suppose, but I checked with the team assigned to that lab and they all denied accessing the cabinet. Three of them have a very weak expression of the ATA gene and would have avoided contact with any marked item as a matter of course."

Elizabeth glanced at the PDA next to her coffee mug. "Yes. Major Lorne's preliminary report indicates he interviewed a number of scientists–both those assigned to that lab and those who were identified as occasionally using it. They all denied knowledge of how that particular item got mixed in with what you were working on."

Rodney made a sort of harumphing noise. "Of course they would, Elizabeth. My people aren't stupid enough to admit to trying to kill the head scientist of Atlantis!"

"Kill?" Up until now I'd just been listening. "Cause painful burns, yes, Rodney. But if the idea was to kill you I could think of a lot easier, and more reliable methods, than leaving that thingie on your desk. What if someone else picked it up first? What if someone saw it and brought it to your attention?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"I could have been severely burned and then the burns gotten infected with some horrible germ Beckett's never seen before and I could have died painfully while parts of my body dropped off one by one!" Rodney had one hell of an imagination–both an asset and a drawback, depending on the situation. He blinked and turned to me. "And what do you mean you could think of easier ways to kill me! Can other people think of these ways?" He turned back to Elizabeth, now anxious. "Maybe I should have a bodyguard!"

She hid a small smile behind her coffee mug, sipped and set it gently back on the table. "I don't think that's necessary right now, Rodney. But I do want you to be careful."

"I'm _always_ careful!"

"Of course you are. But we have a number of new people here who may not be as careful as you are." She glanced at me. "Perhaps we should consider reviewing safety measures, just to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Good idea." People were rotating in and out now that we had regular contact with Earth. And it wasn't unusual for longer term people to get sloppy, while newer people considered many of the cautions to be out of date since we'd beaten off the Wraith. "I can send out a memo to the department heads. Get them to schedule mandatory staff meetings to go over the do's and don'ts."

Elizabeth turned her full gaze on me and I sat up a little straighter. "I don't recall receiving an amended duty roster from Dr. Beckett indicating you had been released to light duty."

I gave her one of my best smiles. "Really, I'm fine, Elizabeth." I started to roll my eyes but it made the ceiling swing around most disconcertingly.

Her expression said _tell me another one, John._

"Tell you what. How about if I go to my office just long enough to send out that memo, and then go back to my room. Rodney here can come with me, and report to you that I'm being a good boy." I gave her another grin. For a minute I thought she was going to say no, but then she gave a little sigh.

"One memo, John." She underlined this with a firm index finger held up. "And Rodney will make sure you go directly to your quarters afterwards."

"So now I'm his _babysitter!_ Really, Elizabeth! I've got more important things to do than making sure his Militaryship follows orders!"

_Militaryship_? Was that even a word?

"Rodney has _lots_ more important things to do," I nodded earnestly, trying to ignore how the furniture bounced up and down.

"Of course I do!" He snapped down the lid on his laptop and pushed his chair back.

"Things to catalog! Things to investigate! People to harass!"

McKay nodded in agreement and then stopped suddenly, offended. "I do _not_ harass my staff! That's called _supervision_ and if they didn't have the IQ's of a pack of preschoolers they wouldn't _need_ so much supervision!"

Elizabeth ignored him. "Rodney, you will accompany Colonel Sheppard to his office. John, you will return immediately to your quarters afterwards or I'll have Beckett confine you to the infirmary." She put both palms flat down on the table. Meeting was ended.

McKay stood up, grabbed his security blanket and motioned impatiently out the door. "Well, get moving, Colonel! I have important work that doesn't involve you and I'd like to get to it before the heat death of the galaxy!"

I stood up slowly, partly to annoy McKay and partly because I didn't want to fall on my face in Elizabeth's office. "Then onward, ho!" I raised a hand to Elizabeth and got a smile in return. With Rodney practically shoving me out the door, we started down towards my office.

III

"_This_ is your _office_, Sheppard!"

I looked around. Looked fine to me. "What's the problem, McKay?"

"Haven't you ever heard of _filing cabinets_?" He ruffled through the stacks of printouts covering most of the desk and several chairs.

"Hey! Don't mess up my system!" I snatched back a handful of...commissary reports? Why did I have copies of commissary reports?...and returned them to their original pile.

"You don't have a system, Sheppard. You have a fire hazard! It looks like an office supply store exploded in here!" He swept up an armful of papers and a manual for a printer I don't have anymore to unbury a plastic chair I'd 'relocated' from the mess hall. He eyed it distrustfully, dropped the papers on top of a stack already on the floor, and sat down.

"Its not like I spend a lot of time here." I settled myself down behind my desk and booted up the computer. "I'm mostly in the field, after all. This is sort of my holding area for stuff. Some of it I'm still trying to figure out what to do with. I had no idea how much paperwork came with being the head military officer. Besides. I'm pretty sure all this now qualifies as an alternate lifeform. I think it breeds when the lights are out."

McKay had his nose buried in his laptop. He looked up just long enough to make a disparaging noise and to wave his hand in a _get on with it_ motion.

The computer was taking its own sweet time initializing, and a sudden loud whistle in my left ear surprised me. I covered that ear, but the noise continued, and I rubbed and pulled on the earlobe in the attempt to stop it. After a moment it faded on its own, but left me feeling dizzy and slightly crosseyed. I blinked hard and got the monitor back in focus. Not a pleasant feeling and I hoped it wasn't going to happen again.

The computer seemed to be taking forever to boot up. I made a mental note to put in a repair order. Maybe it needed updating...or something. Whatever the problem, I didn't remember it taking this long before.

The monitor finally cleared and admitted I could write something. I'm not a great typist, but I get the job done. I was trying to convince Word to format the document so I wouldn't have to type in all the spaces myself when Rodney looked up.

"What's that noise?" He looked around the room sharply. "Something high pitched." He frowned at my computer. "Sounds like you're doing something fatal to your hard drive."

I shrugged and kept trying to sweet talk Word. "I don't hear anything."

"Considering your present condition, why doesn't that surprise me?" He went back to his own work. "Don't come running to me when all your files disappear."

Ah-hah! Success! Word admitted it could format my memo, and I sat back. That's when I noticed an odd smell.

"Rodney, do you smell something burning?" I looked around but couldn't localize where the smell was coming from.

"I assume this is some puerile joke on your part, in retaliation for my comment about your office being a fire hazard?" He didn't even look up.

The monitor on my computer started displaying horizontal lines that blinked and danced across my memo and gave me a serious case of vertigo. I swallowed hard and looked away.

"No, I'm serious. And why is my monitor doing this?" I pointed at the colorful sparkles that had added themselves to the lines.

He looked up and stiffened. "Oh, this is bad. Bad, bad. We have to get out of here." He slammed his laptop closed without even bothering to shut it down properly, tucked it under one arm and took two steps to grab me with the other. "And I mean _right now_."

He pulled on me hard enough to roll my chair a couple of inches across the floor. "Cut it out, Rodney! I don't care how claustrophobic you are! What are you doing?"

He pointed to my computer, where thin tendrils of pale smoke were now leaking out of the base. "We don't have time to discuss this, Sheppard! I assure you, our technology is advanced enough that our computers don't have to communicate with smoke signals!" He tried to pull me out from behind my desk, but that way was blocked.

I broke out of his grasp and pushed him away. "Get out of here!" He stood, frozen, between my desk and the doorway. "Now! Get out! You're blocking the door!"

I got my chair turned around so I could get out, and stood up. Too fast. The room swirled around me and I had to clench my teeth and grab the edge of the desk. A sweaty hand grabbed mine and pulled. A couple of steps and I could open my eyes without feeling like I was on a roller coaster.

Rodney had me and was trying to pull me around the desk. His eyes were wide and scared. "Come _on,_" he was urging.

We ran out and got to the other side of the hallway just as my computer exploded. As the door shut automatically, I got a glimpse of sparks setting paper on fire. My head whirling with all the sudden movement, I slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Rodney, still clutching his laptop, sat down gracelessly beside me.

"I don't think you're going to have to worry about file cabinets for a while, Sheppard," he said.


	7. Chapter 7

Everyone is being so encouraging! I can't believe the thoughtful comments, not to mention the whispered questions. (Smile) My boss seems to feel I should be working on overdue reports, which is just unreasonable if you ask me, but I'll do what I can to update regularly.

III

**Guarding the Shepard **

Chapter Seven:

"Are you all right, Rodney!" I could feel him shaking next to me. I had my eyes closed, back and head pressed up against the cool wall, trying to convince my innards not to become outards.

"McKay, you answer me or I'll pop you upside the back of your head so hard your eyeballs will fall out!"

A ragged breath told me he was at least still breathing. I thought there might be sirens going off somewhere, but now an entire family of mosquitoes had moved into my left ear and the whining and buzzing was competing with the blacksmithing going on in the right.

"Your computer blew up!"

"Observant as always, McKay."

He shifted a little and his shoulder was no longer in contact with mine. "It _blew up_! Do you know how many computers I've blown up in my career!"

I risked opening one eye. And wasn't _that_ a bad idea. More deep breaths. "Can I have what's behind door number two?"

"None!" he continued.

He was certainly giving the mosquitoes a run for my attention. Sometimes I could actually tell how upset he was just by how fast his voice approached squeaky. He was pretty upset. "I'm having a hard time believing that."

"Well, okay, yes...computers in my possession have occasionally fried hard drives, and there was that time where my grocery store coupon card accidently got inserted into the floppy drive and wouldn't come out, and I can assure you that keyboards and gravy should never be together in the same place at the same time, but I've never had one blow up!" He was poking me in the shoulder while yelling, and it wasn't helping the way my office door reeled around when I tried opening my eyes again.

I was temporarily distracted by the idea of Rodney grocery shopping. "You use a coupon card?"

"What? Do you think the Refrigerator Fairy comes by every night and leaves meals for all the good girls and boys?" He stopped and took a breath. "That's what interns are for."

"Do I want to know about the gravy?"

His voice was coming down and he was getting snappish. Nothing like having to justify himself to distract him from a crisis.

"Do you really think this is the time to discuss minor problems I might have had with obviously defective computers? Yours blew up!"

"Rodney, I've never had one blow up either. So stop using me for a punching bag and tell me, _are you all right_?" Gritting my teeth at the end probably helped to get his attention.

There was a brief pause and the sound of clothing rustling.

"Nothing seems to be broken, at least that I can tell right now, but you never know. I did hit the wall pretty hard. And, oh, God! I think my hand is burned!"

I opened my eyes and hallway wasn't dancing back and forth so much. Rodney wiggled his hand under my nose anxiously.

"Look! Look at the burn marks! Oh, God, there must be nerve damage! I can't even feel it!" His face was paling and he was starting to hyperventilate.

I took his hand and waited for the number of his fingers to decrease to something close to five. He pointed out the marks with a trembling finger. Squinting, I took a closer look, then rubbed at one. The black streak rubbed off, leaving only a little smudge behind.

"That's printer ink, Rodney. You put your sweaty hand down on some cheap print outs."

He snatched it back again, holding it against his body. "What do you know!"

I showed him the same black smudge, now on my thumb.

He scowled and gingerly rubbed one finger against his pants. When the ink smeared off, he angrily rubbed his whole hand against his knee. "Well, it _could_ have been burned!"

"Yes, Rodney, it could have. And thank you for hauling me out of there before I became a popped Colonel."

He rolled his eyes but straightened up a little. "Yes. Well...someone has to save your sorry butt, and it seems to be my job by default." He looked at me, eyes narrowing. "Are _you_ all right? You look kind of pale."

"Fine, Rodney. Just need to let the world stop waltzing without me." I pulled my legs up and let my hands dangle over my knees. Actually, the world was settling down nicely.

Movement from the end of the hallway caught my eye and I turned carefully to see if it was real or just more vertigo. A group of people were pelting down the corridor at full speed. As they milled around I noticed I got a lot more medical staff and fewer volunteer firefighting scientists. And no zoologist at all. Rodney had climbed to his feet, protesting loudly that he was probably emotionally scarred for life, his back hurt, his face was scorched and he was possibly going to develop respiratory failure from smoke inhalation. The medical staff didn't seem particularly concerned.

Work boots stopped near my feet and I risked my head falling off to carefully look up. Major Lorne was gazing down at me, managing to look both concerned and world weary at the same time.

"Sir. The control room received an alarm indicating a fire was reported in this sector of the corridor." He deflected Rodney and his cotillion of paramedics gently off to the side.

"Yeah. Either something went wrong with my computer or all that paperwork self-combusted after reaching critical mass."

He gave me a quick grin. My ability to procrastinate on the day to day minutia that seemed to follow me around was well known. "I've seen your office, sir, and spontaneous combustion may not be as farfetched as some people believe."

I sighed. "Yeah, but it was the computer, rather than the paper, that

spontaneously combusted. Nobody hurt, but the I doubt there's much left in there." I brightened. Actually, this might be a good thing in disguise. After all, I couldn't be expected to do paperwork that now existed primarily as piles of ash, could I?

"Don't worry, sir. Remember the incident with the 150 DVD's of Teletubby episodes? Everyone keeps copies of what they send you, now."

I winced. How the hell was I supposed to know Teletubbies weren't little battery powered video players that could be used in the shower? They got radios that run in the shower, after all. If someone had been a little more explicit I wouldn't have ordered all those extra ones. Even the Athosian kids wouldn't watch 'em.

He shifted his P-90 out of the way and extended a hand.

"That's okay. I think I'll stay here for a while." Rodney had been unable to convince the paramedics that he was in immediate danger of keeling over and had moved on to expounding loudly on the likelihood of self-destructing computers. People were peering in my office door, and the smell of wet paper and ash had drifted out into the hallway.

Lorne touched his comm. "No problem, sir. Dr. Beckett will be here within the minute."

I reached a hand up and took a good grip on the Major's callused palm. "Although I've heard it isn't good to sit still for too long. Bad for the circulation." I ignored the look I got and allowed him to haul me up to my feet. It took a few seconds of careful breathing but by the time Beckett arrived I was steady and capable of thinking of all kinds of reasons why I didn't need to go back to the infirmary.

III

A couple of hours later and we were gathered around the conference table in Elizabeth's office.

I had staged a strategic retreat to my quarters after Carson had agreed I hadn't done any new damage to myself, to find Teyla there, waiting for me. I had counted the hours since my morning dose and decided just one of the Tylenol and codeines would be enough to kill the headache and keep the quilters at bay.

Teyla was apparently prepared to stay with me, but I managed to edge her out by swearing I was going to read and take it easy for a while. And I didn't need an audience. She smiled, but it was her _you aren't fooling me_ smile. The one that didn't really reach her eyes. But I showed her my book, propped myself up on my bed with a pillow, and genially encouraged her to go look at something more interesting.

I still hadn't gotten very far in _War and Peace_. I flipped to the middle of the book, just to see if the action perked up any, but it was too confusing. I tried to remember who was doing what to whom, but there seemed to be more whoms than I had met at the beginning.

I was startled awake by a hand on my shoulder. I rolled away from the intruder, grabbed the nearest thing to a weapon I could find and threw it. Teyla has incredible reflexes. She knocked the book out of the air and grabbed the back of my shirt before I fell out of bed.

"Colonel Sheppard! Wake up!" Her voice registered before I got both eyes open at the same time, and I allowed her to tug me over onto my back. Two Teylas merged into one, and that one looked apologetic and worried. "I am sorry, Colonel. I should not have touched you when you were asleep, but you did not respond when I called your name."

I scrubbed my hands over my face and sighed. The good news was the headache was gone and I was only a little dizzy. Not to mention having failed at braining a member of my team with a large book. How would I have written that incident report? Assault with a deadly classic? "How did you get in?

"You did not lock your door."

Well, damn. I didn't usually lock my door when I wasn't in my room–after all, what did I have to steal that everyone else didn't already have or didn't want? But I did lock it when I was in. It had only taken a couple of panicked awakenings from Rodney to teach me it was better to be locked in. The codeine was screwing with my memory.

She had set down a tray on my desk, and although there wasn't any coffee, the sandwich, juice and some kind of fruit cobbler were welcome. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I saw them, and Teyla smiled as I tucked into a late lunch.

We chatted amiably about nothing in particular. Her people were pleased with the progress of the crops that had been planted. One of our botanists had been showing her pictures of flowers native to Earth and Teyla had been able to point out some that were similar to flowers she had seen on other planets. Ronon had been banned from the dining room kitchen between the hours of 4am and 6am. The morning staff were tired of coming in to discover he had raided leftovers for a "snack," and he kept scaring them by appearing silently at dawn and demanding to know how long it was going to take for breakfast to be cooked.

"If you are finished, Colonel," Teyla said, smiling as I set the empty cobbler dish back on the tray, "Dr. Weir would like us to meet in her office."

"When?"

"I am to let her know when you have finished eating and are ready."

I frowned, my good mood immediately evaporating. "Why didn't you say so when you first came in?" My hands were sticky and I felt vaguely grubby from sleeping in my clothes. I stood and headed for the bathroom.

She gathered up the rest of the tray. "Dr. Beckett said you were to eat first. I shall inform Dr. Weir you will be on your way to her office in 15 minutes."

She left as I ducked into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes was enough to get a quick shower and change.

Although I had thought the door locked behind Teyla, I peeked out of the bathroom after my shower, just to make sure I really was alone. I wouldn't have put it past Beckett to use his medical override and decide this was a good time to stick some more painful instruments in my ear. But the room was empty and I dressed quickly in casual uniform pants and a t-shirt.

Elizabeth was in her position at the crest of the U shaped table when I came in. Major Lorne and Dr. Zelenka were already seated, and I nodded as I walked behind them to a chair. Elizabeth opened her mouth but closed it again as Rodney blew into the room, breathing hard and muttering about how he couldn't be expected to just drop everything and attend meetings when he was so busy.

Making the maximum amount of noise and disruption, he bulldozed his way past all of us to drop into a chair next to me. Pushing what was left of his hair off his forehead, he set down his computer, leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath. "Well?" he demanded in a cranky tone as we waited to see if he was ready. "Was there a reason for this meeting beyond disrupting my schedule for the next three days, or are we all going to just sit around staring at each other like monkeys in a zoo?"

"Depends on how many tricks you know, Rodney." He turned to glare in my direction but I only gave him my best smile.

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth interrupted. "Later, please." She nodded at Major Lorne and Dr. Zelenka. A faint tinge of red flushed Radek's face. Everyone knew he had a bit of a crush on our Elizabeth, but he continued to act as if it were a deep, dark secret. I smiled wider.

"John, you're looking better." Elizabeth turned her attention to me.

I shrugged. "Doing fine, Elizabeth."

"Good." She turned back to Lorne and Zelenka. "Major, I understand you searched Colonel Sheppard's office?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lorne sat very straight in his chair. He's an excellent second in command, but like me, came by his promotion quicker than expected. He still wasn't very comfortable dealing directly with Elizabeth unless it was to relay orders or offer information. I wasn't worried. He'd learn. "The fire in Colonel Sheppard's office was put out by Atlantis fire suppressant. There's quite a bit of damage to the office itself..." at this he threw me an apologetic glance, "...but the fire did not spread to any other areas."

"That's good news, Major. I'm not sure we're prepared to engage in an extensive firefighting activity at this time." She turned her gaze on Radek, who blushed again. "Dr. Zelenka. Have you been able to inspect the computer from Colonel Sheppard's office?"

"Yes, Dr. Weir." He paused to clear his throat a little, then repeated in a less squeaky voice. "Yes, I have."

She raised an eyebrow. "And your conclusion?"

He gave an expressive shrug. "It blew up."

Rodney had been shifting around restlessly, opening and closing the top of his laptop and bouncing a pencil on the table by its eraser–until I'd nabbed it on a rebound and put it out of his reach. He and I had been engaged in a silent war over the pencil until Radek started talking.

"Oh, for God's sake, Zelenka! That's all you came up with? I could have told you that! In fact, I DID tell you that!"

"Repeatedly," muttered Radek under his breath.

"After all, I was right there! It made noise, it smoked, sparks flew and it blew up! And you're the one we've got fixing the 'Jumpers? What's the matter? Interrupt a training sessions with your Legos?" He made a disgusted face and grabbed for the pencil again. I held it out of reach.

Elizabeth held up a hand to forestall any more McKay comment. "Do you have anything to add to your report, Dr. Zelenka?"

He pushed his glasses up on his nose again, and pointedly ignored McKay. "As Rodney say. Colonel Sheppard boot up his computer, it make noise not supposed to come from computer, smoke and sparks. But computer not so much Boom as Poof." He spread his hands only a few inches apart, trying to demonstrate a small explosion.

"Poof? Is that a technical term, Radek?" Rodney had gotten the pencil back from me when I was listening to our Czech engineer, and used it to draw little air quotes.

"I say things so you understand," Zelenka replied with great dignity. As Rodney started to sputter, Radek turned back to Elizabeth. "Is big difference between Boom and Poof," he tried to explain. "With Boom there is much destruction. Pattern of debris spread show how big a boom. Not much left of thing that cause Boom. But this, this more of Poof." He looked at Major Lorne, who nodded in agreement. "Door close when fire detected. Everyone assume boom follow. But computer not explode. Computer still on desk, in one piece."

"But I saw it spark!" This didn't make any sense. "I heard it explode!"

"You heard _something_, Colonel." Radek looked confident. "You see sparks, fire. You hear something as door close. But not really Boom. More like Bang. Or Poof."

"Radek, I'm sure I heard an explosion." Now he had me confused.

"You hear _small_ explosion. I take apart your computer. In surprisingly good condition for something that was suppose to have exploded. All inside? Crisp. As expected. Plastic housing? Melted. Monitor? Also melted. But not blown apart. Melted, fused, but little sign of damage expected by build up of pressure prior to outgassing." He held his hands out straight, palms towards each other. "Should have seen CD drive embedded in wall. Flippy doors blown out." He mimed increasing pressure by cupping his hands and then letting his fingers pop apart.

"_Flippy doors_? How will I ever make sense of all this technical jargon?" Rodney sniped.

Elizabeth was frowning now, too. "What does this mean?"

"I run some tests. Find low levels of chemicals. These chemicals, when combined and heated, cause slow reaction leading eventually to poof." He looked at me. "You boot up computer, Colonel. Short somewhere. Chemicals react. Not enough residue to say how much chemicals, but force of explosion tell me not much. Make things smell bad, make colorful sparks like fireworks. But not mean to be dangerous."

"Not dangerous!" Rodney was indignant. "It set his office on fire! We could have been killed!" I grabbed back the pencil before he put out somebody's eye with it, waving it around like that.

"Colonel, your office had a great deal of paper spread around in the open. The majority of the damage is not from the computer itself exploding, but from the fire caused by the sparks." Radek nodded firmly, agreeing with Lorne's analysis.

"Is it possible this was a natural breakdown of equipment, Dr. Zelenka?" Elizabeth didn't look pleased, and I wasn't too thrilled at where this was heading, either.

Radek looked certain as he shook his head. His hair flopped into his face and he swiped it back as he used his thumb to make sure his glasses didn't slide down. "No. These chemicals? Should not be in contact with electrical wiring. To much danger of explosion."

We were all quiet for a moment. Rodney broke the silence. "Sabotage? You're saying Sheppard's computer was rigged to explode?"

"Yes. Cannot think of any other explanation for circumstances."

"I agree. Colonel, someone _wanted_ your computer to self-destruct after you turned it on." Lorne didn't appear any happier than I felt.

"Then gentlemen," Elizabeth said, resting her hands quietly on the table and looking at us one at a time, "We have a problem."


	8. Chapter 8

Wow! A hundred and one reviews! I'm delighted! I never thought I'd get such a wonderful number of comments. I don't know what to say other than thanks, I'm honored, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. This piece is a bit short, but I still have those pesky reports waiting.

**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Eight:

Lorne was nodding in agreement with Elizabeth, Zelenka looked vaguely concerned–like we were somehow going to blame him for all this–and Rodney was punishing his pencil for being in the same room as bad news by rocking it nervously between his fingers. The ticking of the pencil against the table was unusually loud in the quiet. There was only so much of that I could take, and yanked it back as Elizabeth clicked her comm.

"Ronon, Teyla...This is Dr. Weir. Please come to my office." She looked around the table again, pausing at Rodney's outraged expression. "Dr. McKay? Is there something you want to add?" She had that teacher face on..the one that always noticed when you had something you wanted to keep to yourself and everyone else felt you should share. _Did you bring enough gum for everyone in the class?_

Rodney glowered at me and quickly put his hands back in front of him. I smirked, the pencil waggling just out of his reach under the edge of the table. "No, no, Elizabeth. Everything's fine. Well, you know, not _fine_ fine, but good. Well, maybe not _good_, but, well..." he sort of stuttered to a stop, his face turning red.

Elizabeth sighed, her eyes flicking in my direction. I was saved by Teyla and Ronon approaching the door to her office. Ronon always moved like he knew for a fact that everyone and everything would get out of his way. And they did. I'd heard of only a couple of incidents where brave, or foolish, people had tried to play power games by standing in the middle of the hallway and pretending they didn't see him coming. It wasn't the part where Ronon picked them up by whatever handful of clothing was handiest and set them to the side. It wasn't even his complete lack of interest in playing such games. It was the part where he never broke stride and never looked at the person removed from his path. Kavanaugh swore one of his hand knitted sweaters had stitches broken in a pattern that exactly fit Ronon's right hand. I was sorry I'd missed it. There had been talk of stealing it from the laundry room and framing it.

Teyla sat down near Radek, who blushed again. Ronon dropped into a chair near the back wall, where he would have the widest view of activities outside the office. The room immediately felt smaller, and the ceiling lower. Ronon was not built for indoor activities.

Elizabeth nodded at both of them as they settled. "Thank you for coming." Teyla gave her a smile and Ronon's expression didn't change. "It has been determined by Dr. Zelenka that the destruction of the Colonel's computer was not accidental." She gave them a moment to think about it.

"You are certain?" asked Teyla, giving me a concerned look. I smiled my _everything's good_ smile at her, but she didn't look like she believed me.

"Yes. The chemicals that caused the explosion are readily available and easily obtained. Is that not correct, Dr. Zelenka?"

The poor man was going to have to have his blood pressure checked if he stayed red like that for much longer. His eyes looked for somewhere neutral to rest, and he finally chose the middle of the table. "Yes. We have plenty here on Atlantis. They are not restricted."

"How did they get into your office, Sheppard?" Ronon leaned forward a little, making his chair squeak.

"I imagine they just walked in. It isn't like the door's locked." From the look on Ronon's face he was considering smacking me on the back of the head.

"You don't lock your office door?" There it was. That _how could these people have survived this long being so stupid_ look he used to express his opinion of our self-preservation skills.

"Its not like I keep anything important in there, Ronon! Its my _office_! Anybody who wanted any of that paperwork was welcome to it!" I tried not to sound defensive, but Ronon was right. I _didn't_ lock my office door, so anyone could have gotten in and fiddled with my computer. Rodney took advantage of my discomfort to snatch back his pencil from where I'd been drawing a smiley face on his pant leg, and gave me a sharp rap on the ribs with it before transferring it to the hand farther away from me.

Teyla looked thoughtful. "I spoke with some of your people today, as you requested, Dr. Weir. Everyone knew some parts of what has happened, but no one volunteered information that might lead to the person or persons responsible for any of the incidents."

"Well, you didn't expect someone to just jump to their feet and confess 'I did it! Throw me in the brig!' now, did you?" Rodney was holding the pencil like a microphone, the back of his other hand pressed against his forehead.

"Hey! You're investigating without me?" I frowned at Teyla.

"No, Dr. McKay, I did not. However, sometimes someone may say something that seems useless, even irrelevant, without understanding how that small piece fits into the larger puzzle."

"You started questioning people _without me_?"

"Dr. Weir felt I might be less...intimidating?...than calling on Major Lorne's people."

Elizabeth nodded. "Let's try not to turn this into a police action, if we can avoid it. We live in close quarters here, for all the actual space that's available, and tempers and personalities are already delicate."

"Now wait a minute! Shouldn't I get to be involved in this? After all, its me this stuff is happening to!" Like pod people, all six of them turned, in unison, to stare at me. I got six different versions of _have you received a head injury lately_? It was intimidating as hell. I slid down a little in my chair. "Maybe not?"

Elizabeth continued as if I hadn't spoken. "Until we know why this is happening and who is causing it, there will be a guard posted at your room, John." She looked at Lorne, who nodded once.

The meeting went downhill fast after that. On the other hand, I don't think I'd ever been thrown out of an office more politely.

III

The rest of the afternoon and evening went by pretty boringly. I couldn't concentrate on anything because of the codeine, and any too-fast movement made the world tip and shiver. The rec room was too noisy and my ears protested by waking up the quilters and producing whining and clicking noises randomly in my left ear. Dinner was average, meaning at least half the food still had a recognizable taste to it, but I just couldn't get interested in the conversations going on. Finally, I just gave up, dumped the rest of my tray, and made my way through the crowd out to the hallway. I paused to take a breath, but closing my eyes immediately made me feel like the floor was tilting, and I opened them quickly.

"Sheppard."

Startled, I whirled around, and then had to put a hand on the wall to keep the world from continuing to spin without me. "Jesus, Ronon! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

He shrugged. "I'm not sneaking. Just walking. Not my fault you didn't hear me coming."

I pointed to my ear. "Remember? Ear injury?"

"Sheppard, you don't hear me coming even when your ears are working fine."

"That's beside the point. You want something?"

"No."

"Something wrong?"

"No."

"Okay, then." I straightened up and turned, carefully, to head down the hallway. At least I _thought_ I was going to walk down the hallway. I got a step away before being stopped in place by the pressure of my shirt against my chest. I risked a look behind me, and sure enough, Ronon had me anchored at the end of his arm. "Not funny, Dex," I snapped.

"You're going in the wrong direction." Keeping a grip on me, he closed the space between us and started turning me back again. Trying to stay in place was like fighting the tide. It was turn, or risk adding a twisted ankle to my collection of injuries.

"And what direction am I supposed to be going in?" He still had a hold of the back of my shirt, but now was pressing me forward. "Cut this crap out and let go of me!"

"Soon as we get to Beckett."

"I wasn't going to Beckett! I don't _want_ to go to Beckett!" He continued to push me down the hall. Digging my heels into the smooth flooring didn't do anything except make my knees hurt. I couldn't move fast enough to break his hold without getting sick. I ground my teeth and decided I was going to make a special list of scientists who could only go on missions with Ronon.

I was marched into the infirmary on the end of Ronon's arm, much to the amusement of Nursezilla. He let go of me within reach of one of the beds, and I was straightening out my shirt and planning my escape as Carson poked his head out from his office.

"Colonel?" He started across the floor towards us. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, yeah." I pointed at Ronon and snarled, "And he's standing right there."

Ronon was leaning against another bed, his arms folded across his chest, not appearing to be bothered in the least by the sight of his commanding officer glaring at him.

Carson looked confused. "Er, something's wrong with Ronon?" He looked at the tall man, who just smiled and shook his head, pointing back at me.

"He won't eat. He's dizzy. He's whining."

"I'm not whining!"

Beckett patted the bed. "Hop up here, son. Let me take a look."

"I'm fine, dammit! Leave me alone!"

Carson turned to Ronon. "Ya left out the part where he's in a bad mood."

Ronon grinned. "Its hard to tell from his regular mood."

"Oh, ha, ha." I started to sidle down the side of the bed, but now I was pinned in between the Man Mountain and Needle Maniac.

"No problem. I kin look in yer ear just as well with ya standing up." He fished around in his coat pocket and came up with his otoscope.

"Fine!" I didn't exactly hop up, but I managed to get onto the bed without jarring my eyeballs too much.

He pulled on my earlobes, stuck that light so far down I was pretty sure if I opened my mouth he'd be able to see out, and muttered. Doctors always mutter. Makes me nervous.

"Well?"

He patted me on the shoulder and threw away the cap from his 'scope. "As I said, Colonel. Yah've got a little swelling, a little inflammation. Yer gonna be dizzy, yer gonna be sore. Are yeh having problems with noises?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "Weird noises–high pitched mostly–in my left ear. They come and go. Makes my eyes water."

He nodded. "Its to be expected. As long as it comes and goes, I think ya'll be all right. If it becomes steady, though, I want to know about it right away."

_To be expected._ Three of the most irritating words a doctor can say. Not to mention they always seem to expect the worst. No doctor has ever expected anything good. Maybe its in their license.

He held out a hand to help me down, then frowned. "John, yer just pushing yerself too hard. I told ya to take it easy for a reason. Go back to yer room. Rest. Read. Play computer games, if ya want to."

"Can't. My computer blew up."

That made him blink. "Ah, well, perhaps ya can get a loaner. But I mean it, son. Yeh aren't doing yerself any good stomping around and acting like a boyo on a rainy day."

I wasn't sure what a _boyo_ was, but it didn't sound complimentary. "All right! Fine! I'll go back to my room."

"See ya tomorrow, then." I got a pat on the back from Beckett, and escorted back to my room by Ronon. Dex watched me open the door, and the guard didn't react as I returned Ronon's half-raised hand with a middle finger wave good-bye.

I looked at my watch. It was too early to go to bed. I didn't feel like reading. I wasn't hungry. My computer had blown up and I hadn't thought to get another one. I sighed. I supposed I could play solitaire with the cards I kept in my desk.

I went back to my bed with the cards, and shook out the blanket to make a smooth surface. I was surprised by a folded piece of paper that fluttered out and slid to the floor. I grabbed at it, and missed, as it went by, then gingerly retrieved it from the floor. It was just a note from Dr. Hemmelwhite, asking if I could stop by Lab Seven in the morning. He had something he wanted me to activate. I realized I hadn't had any _Colonel you must_ requests since being blown through the Stargate. Maybe there was an upside to being temporarily separated from the comm system. Although now that it had occurred to one of our geniuses that note writing was still a viable communication system, the word would spread and everyone would decide that I didn't have anything better to do as long as I was confined to Atlantis.

I dropped the note on my desk and got onto the bed. Sitting crosslegged, I laid out the cards and proceeded to lose a statistically impossible number of games.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for your patience, so far! I appreciate the encouragement, as well as the suggestions!

III

**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Nine

I slept longer than I usually did. No alarm, no need to be up for a mission briefing, no sudden emergency that required my presence in the middle of the night. If I wasn't so bored, it would be like a vacation.

And as much as it annoyed me to admit it, I did feel better for an uninterrupted night's sleep. I hate it when Carson's right. I decided to skip the pill for the dizziness this morning, and take only one of the Tylenol and codeine.

I stuffed the note from Dr. Hemmelwhite in one pocket and and a transceiver in another, and decided I was steady enough to walk to breakfast. I got a brief salute from the guard, who looked as bored as I felt, and wandered down to the mess hall.

The toast still looked like bread, so I got some of that. The sweet rolls were already gone–scientists had an amazing capacity for sugar, I'd discovered–and the eggs no longer looked edible, so I settled for something that might be oatmeal. The coffee was hot and smelled wonderful. I couldn't stand it any longer. I grabbed a mug and filled it, then set it carefully on my tray.

As I turned to find a seat, slowly, so as not to wake up the quilters or make the world slide too much, a young private appeared on one side of me, wisked the mug of coffee off my tray and replaced it with a cup of some kind of tea. He looked at me sympathetically and said, "Dr. Beckett says no caffeine for you, Colonel. Sorry." He took my mug back into the kitchen area.

One of the kitchen staff materialized on the other side of me and added two Athosian meat rolls to my tray. "Dr. Beckett says you need to eat more protein."

"And did Dr. Beckett say what happens to people who take away my coffee?" I'd tried to grab it back, but I couldn't balance myself and the tray without using both hands.

"No, sir," replied the kitchen worker, "but if it makes you feel any better, I lost the bet."

"Bet?"

"There was a pool for when you'd try to sneak coffee past Dr. Beckett's orders. I had yesterday afternoon. You held out longer than I expected."

I gave him an insincere smile and headed to where I saw Teyla sitting. I also hated it when the Dietician and Carson compared notes.

Teyla smiled up at me as I set my tray on the table. She was sipping tea and reading something. "Colonel. Good morning! How are you today?"

"I'd be better with coffee." I sniffed the steaming cup on my tray. "What is this stuff, anyway?"

"I believe you would call it herbal tea. It is popular among my people who do not prefer brisk drinks, and with children."

"But what if I _want_ a brisk drink in the morning!" I tasted the tea. It tasted like brewed incense. No way was I drinking this. The only way it could be improved was if I added several cups of coffee to drown out the flavor.

"Then you will follow Dr. Beckett's orders, get well, and have all you want to drink later." Her smile said _stop harassing the kitchen staff and do what you're told._

I gave up for the moment, but the battle lines were drawn.

"Do you have plans for today, Colonel?" Teyla closed the folder she'd been reading and turned all her attention on me.

I sampled the cereal. Needed more sugar. "Not really. One of the scientists remembered he could write without using a keyboard and left me a note, asking I come and activate something or other for him. Maybe check and see what's left of my office. And I suppose I ought to see about getting another laptop." The meat rolls were pretty good, but I couldn't finish the second one. "You?"

She gave a small shrug. "I am not busy. You do not like the tea?"

That was an understatement. "Nope. Guess I'll have to wait for the real stuff." Or steal some when no one's looking.

"Do you mind if I come with you to meet with this scientist?" She gestured at the folder on the table. "I am beginning to understand why you dislike paperwork so much."

"Sure. But it isn't usually very interesting. I touch something. It does something, or it doesn't. All the really good stuff winds up in Rodney's lab, so there probably isn't even going to be an explosion." I sniffed the tea again. Didn't smell any better when it was cool.

She laughed. It made me smile, too. "I do not think that is a bad thing."

III

"Where are we going?" Teyla was walking with me, matching her steps to mine. I still felt like if I picked up my feet too high I'd just tip over, and someone had to look into making the floor stay still, but it wasn't as nauseating as it had been at the beginning. It was a scary thought that I might actually be getting used to the world dancing around without me.

I dug out the note from my pocket. "Lab Seven. Dr. Hemmelwhite."

She frowned. "I do not believe I have met this Dr. Hemmelwhite."

Hemmelwhite. Hemmelwhite? "Actually, I don't think I have either. Its getting hard to keep up with the scientific staff, now that we have contact with Earth again. Someone is always thinking of a new discipline we just have to have." I stuffed the note back in my pocket.

Lab Seven was on the outer edge of Scientist Territory. Dr. Hemmelwhite must not have a lot of seniority. People who had been on Atlantis for a while had labs closer to Rodney, while new people, or people McKay was pissed at, got labs farther away. Kavanaugh's lab was so far away it was in a different time zone.

The door opened at my touch, and the lights were on. It was a typical set up. Tables, storage lockers of some sort along the wall, miscellaneous equipment spread over most of the available horizontal surfaces. It was an inside room. No windows.

"Hello! Dr. Hemmelwhite? Its Colonel Sheppard. Hello?" I called out a couple of times while Teyla browsed around looking at things neither of us recognized. "Dr. Hemmelwhite?"

I turned to Teyla with a shrug. "There wasn't a time mentioned on the note, just 'morning.' Maybe he, or she, is taking a break and we missed him. Or her."

Teyla clicked her comm. "Dr. McKay, this is Teyla." She paused. "I am with Colonel Sheppard. We are looking for Dr. Hemmelwhite. Do you know where he or she might be?" A longer pause, a tiny wince, and then "Thank you." She clicked off her comm. "Dr. McKay said he is not Dr. Hemmelwhite's social secretary and he does not know where he is."

Well, at least Hemmelwhite's a he. That narrows it down to more than half the scientific contingent.

She frowned again. "What is a social secretary?"

That took up a couple of minutes trying to explain. I think I reinforced Teyla's belief that we were just too naive to survive on our own.

Well, no use hanging around if the mysterious Dr. Hemmelwhite wasn't here. "Guess I'll head over to my office. Maybe he forgot. Or is busy with something else." I walked over to the door and touched the control crystal, but nothing happened. I thought _open!_, but that didn't work, either.

"Colonel?" Teyla tapped on the crystal, as well. Nothing.

"Don't know. It opened fine from the other side." I pushed experimentally, but the door was firmly set in the frame. "Wonderful. Just what I needed to start out the day. A malfunctioning door."

Teyla held up a hand, motioning me to be quiet. She turned slowly, looking at different areas of the room. "Do you hear that?"

I held my breath. Was that some kind of scratching? "I'm not sure. What do you hear?"

"Light sounds. Like something moving on the bare floor." She edged away from me, trying to track down the elusive noise. She was whispering and I could barely make out what she was saying. I stopped myself from demanding _what?_

Something skittered by on the outside edge of my vision. I tried to see what it was but overbalanced myself and landed on my butt. "Did you see that!"

"See what?" She offered a hand to help me up but I rolled to my knees...and then stayed there while the room rolled around me.

"I don't know! Something fast." I pulled myself to my feet with the help of a table edge. "Get a hold of McKay. Tell him to get this door open or I'll tell Ronon who keeps eating the apple fritters."

She grinned as she tapped her comm. Ronon _really_ liked apple fritters.

"Dr. McKay, this is Teyla. Colonel Sheppard and I are locked in Lab Seven. The door is malfunctioning."

Damn! There went another one! What _was_ that? It must have attracted Teyla's attention as well, because her head whipped to the side, following the movement.

"Dr. McKay, it appears there may be something else in this room beside Colonel Sheppard and myself, so no, we are not interested in waiting until you have a minute." She pointed under a table by the wall, and I caught a flash of something sort of golden colored before it ducked behind a box.

I backed closer to Teyla and grabbed out my own comm. "McKay, get your ass down here and figure out what the problem is with this door!"

"Sheppard? You aren't supposed to be using a comm." Rodney didn't sound particularly distressed by my present situation.

"Listen...Teyla and I are in Lab Seven with something that has way too many legs running around under the furniture. Whether or not I'm supposed to use a comm is sort of a minor consideration right now!"

"Um, legs? Like how many legs? Big legs? Long legs? Like spider-type legs, because I'm allergic to some spider bites and I didn't know Atlantis had spiders."

"_McKay!_"

"All right! All right! I'm coming!" His voice clicked off and I pulled the transceiver away from my ear a little. Things sounded kind of hollow, like after a loud concert, but it wasn't too bad.

"Colonel!" Teyla pointed to two of the creatures, now regarding us from under a chair. I spotted a third coming out from a pile of equipment, and a fourth was stalking along the edge of the wall. They were sort of furry, a yellowish-golden color, with big gold eyes and six legs. A fifth one crept out of a dohickey on the other side of the room.

"Stay where you are. Maybe they won't come any closer." We froze, but the furry things, about the size of partly grown kitten, took our stillness for permission to creep nearer.

"Sheppard?" McKay's voice was soft in my ear without the mold tucked in where it belonged.

"They're getting closer, Rodney. And I don't want to know what they want." I motioned Teyla towards one of the tables, and we carefully started to step in that direction. Five pairs of big gold eyes watched us move, and then followed us. "Oh, crap!"

"Sheppard? _Sheppard?_" McKay's voice was nervous. "What's going on in there?"

"I think I recognize them, Rodney. Get your zoologist over here." We had reached the table, but the distance between the animals and ourselves had decreased significantly.

I heard him yell for someone to get Dr. Jankowitz. In the meantime, Teyla had gotten up on the table and was waiting to help me up. She moved a little more towards the middle of the large workbench, but the critters ignored her. They seemed to be completely fixated on me. I moved a step away, and sure enough, they followed my motion and came closer.

"Colonel Sheppard?" An unfamiliar voice in my comm. "This is Dr. Jankowitz. Can you describe the animal?"

"Oh, definitely, doc. In fact, I know exactly what they are. They're Hades' Happy Hamsters." There was a pause, and then Rodney's laughter overrode every other voice.

"You're trapped in a room with _Hades' Happy Hamsters_?"

"It isn't funny, McKay! Get that door open!" The hamsters had gotten bold and were now within a couple of feet of me. Way too close. "Shut up, Rodney and work!"

As Rodney tried to catch his breath, another anxious voice came on. "Colonel Sheppard? Dr. Jankowitz again. Are the...er...hamsters injured?"

"No," I drawled, trying to nudge away the bravest one with my foot. "They're fine. But I won't guarantee how long they'll stay that way if the door doesn't open. And weren't you told you couldn't bring any of them back to the city?" Two had gotten around to my side and were sniffing my pantleg.

I glanced at Teyla, and she was trying hard not to laugh. She was sitting crosslegged in the middle of the table, her eyes sparkling, one hand partially covering her mouth. "They seem very interested in you, Colonel."

"Well, I'm not...stop that!" I shook one pant leg, and a hamster fell off. They have little claws on the ends of all those legs and one was trying to climb up my leg. We'd found them on a forested world where all those legs and claws came in handy for running away from predators. They didn't seem to have any fear of us. In fact, it was the opposite. They liked us _way_ too much. I don't know if it was the smell of soap, or our clothes or what, but a few of them came into camp and one of the Marine's made the mistake of offering a few bites of a power bar.

After that we couldn't get rid of the creatures. They appeared out of the trees, the undergrowth, everywhere. They followed us around. Climbed up our clothes. Made some kind of tick-tick noise that I guess meant they were pleased. Mostly what they were pleased about was new things to chew. They chewed on backpacks, clothing, leather straps, polywoven belts, hair...pretty much anything they could get a hold of. All the time rubbing their butts against any part of us they could reach. And with those claws, they could reach a _lot_ of parts.

"Ouch, damn it!" I peeled one off my knee, but bending down so quickly made me dizzy, and I caught myself against the floor with one hand.

"Are you all right, Colonel?" Teyla stretched a little to see over the edge of the table.

"Oh, just peachy." Having gotten closer to the floor, the Happy Hamsters were delighted to now be able to jump onto my back. One ran up the back of my shirt and started nibbling on my hair. "Jesus!"

Trying to get them off was like trying to peel velcro. I'd get one dislodged only to have two more sticking somewhere else. All the time they were making that _tick-tick_ noise and rubbing against me. "Don't just sit there, Teyla! Help me get them off!" She plucked off the one from my back, but as soon as she dropped it on the floor it ran back and jumped on my shoulder.

"Don't hurt them! Don't hurt them!" Dr. Jankowitz's voice was anxious in my ear, and I could hear Rodney snickering.

"Don't hurt _them_? What about _me_! McKay!

"Working, working. Now don't hurt the little Hamsters. They just want to be friends."

"_Get your teeth out of my pocket!_" One was using its claws to try and burrow into my pants pocket. Whatever it thought was in there was attracting the others, and they were converging on the same spot. However, as they couldn't all fit in one pocket, they were busy anchoring themselves as close as possible, using those sharp claws. "Shit!" I tried brushing them away, but as soon as one got loose, another moved up to take its place. The room was sliding around from all the quick motions, and I was too dizzy to stand back up.

"Got it!" The door slid partly open and McKay came through, closely followed by a tall, thin man in a lab coat.

Lab coat guy pulled a pair of padded gloves out of his pocket. Someone still out in the hallway handed through a pair of wire cages. "Come along, Sidney," he crooned. "Now, now, Matt. Leave the nice Colonel alone."

After making sure the Hamsters weren't interested in him as well, McKay went to stand next to the table with Teyla. "Isn't that sweet? Sidney wants to stay with Sheppard."

"Oh, hi, Colonel Sheppard. I'm Dr. Jankowitz. We were introduced when I first came here, but I don't know if you remember. There's a good George. Back in your cage. Colonel Sheppard doesn't want to play."

Having Hades' Happy Hamsters removed from one's person was no more pleasant then having them attached. Even with the padded gloves, Dr. Jankowitz was having difficulty. "Hey! Watch where your hands are going!"

"Sorry, sorry, Colonel. Thomas does seem to be rather frisky today."

"Frisky, eh?" McKay repeated, wiping tears from the corner of one eye.

Jankowitz got all the Hamsters back into the two cages and carried them out of the room. "Don't think I'm going to forget about you having those monsters!" I yelled after his rapidly retreating back.

I looked at my clothes. I had holes chewed in my pants and my shirt. One shoelace was missing up to the grommet. Everywhere I didn't have clothing was scratched, and I had nips on my fingers, one ear, and chin.

"Nice friends you made there, Sheppard." McKay had his laptop tucked under one arm and was gesturing at the door. "Too bad I didn't think to bring a camera. 'Colonel Mugged By Amorous Hamsters.' It'd make a great headline, don't you think?"

"Well, now that I know they're here, Rodney, I can't see any reason why they shouldn't be allowed to play with Uncle McKay." I was pissed.

"Oh, no, Colonel. Its obvious they really preferred you." He paused. "And you know, they _really_ preferred you. Which is strange because I would have expected them to go after Teyla and myself."

Teyla climbed down from the table gracefully. "Are you all right, Colonel?" She bent down so she could look at me directly.

I rubbed my right ear, which only made the quilters happy. "No, Teyla, I am not all right. I've been nibbled, punctured, used as a scratching pole, and a group of alien Hamsters attempted to mate with me!" I closed my eyes, but that made the floor tilt, and I had to brace myself to keep from falling over.

"And you stink." Ronon was standing in the doorway.

"Thank you. How nice to hear. Go away."

"Come on, Sheppard," Rodney said. "You're safe from the Hamsters. Get up and let's find out why they were loose in here."

"No." I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. "I'm down here and I'm staying here." I was queasy, the room was doing a slow spiral, and the quilters were darning my eardrum. "Go away."

Rodney came around so he could face me. He put his laptop on the table and dropped down to his knees. "Um, Sheppard, you really don't look so good."

"I'll be fine. I'll just sit here for awhile and bask in the afterglow."

"Considering there were five of them, its got to be a hell of an afterglow. Even Captain Kirk never got five at the same time." He smiled, but I refused to cheer up.

He sighed and stood back up. "Wait there." He motioned to Teyla and they joined Ronon out in the corridor. I tried to think the door closed, but it still wasn't working.

After several minutes I realized the room and the hallway were quiet. I was regretting not taking the anti-vertigo pill this morning as the room continued to slide around. Keeping very still was helping, but was also making me more aware of the scratches and little bites. Nothing I could see was bleeding much, but they were beginning to sting.

My stomach settled down a bit and I started to think maybe I could get up without splatting full length on the floor. I heard footsteps out in the hallway. They slowed then stopped. I turned to growl at whoever was there when Rodney walked back in. He was holding a cup in his hand.

He put the cup on the table and dragged a couple of chairs over. "Come sit down."

"I'm already sitting down."

"Come sit on a _chair_, then." He tugged at my elbow.

Then the smell hit me. "Rodney, did you...?"

"If you ever mention this, I will swear I had no idea where it came from and you were delirious from alien sex."

I let him help me up, and there, on the table, was a hot cup of coffee. Well, half a cup. I didn't care. I let him sit me down in one of the chairs, and he pushed the coffee over. I don't think I've tasted anything so good in a long time.

Rodney watched me take a sip. "All right then. Time to figure out what happened here."


	10. Chapter 10

Yipes! Those shoe prints you see on my backside are from **Kittytrypsin** and **Parisindy**. Let RL take over for a while and people come looking! On the other hand, its nice to be chased–wink.

III

**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Ten

The coffee tasted wonderful. At least until it hit my still unhappy stomach. I took another tiny sip and let the flavor roll around on my tongue and the aroma fill my nose. My stomach wasn't any more excited about the second taste than it had been at the first and I wondered if maybe Beckett's prohibition had been with cause. Unfortunately, my mouth wanted that coffee just as much as my stomach didn't, and self-control wasn't a big priority of mine just at the moment.

The chair I was sitting on wasn't helping. One leg was a little shorter than the other, and the unpredictable rocking as my weight shifted was only encouraging the dizziness. The table was scarred and seemed to have a balance problem, as well. The whole situation made me feel like the room was jerking around, taking my insides with it. I concentrated on getting the chair balanced, and gave my stomach a stern talking to.

_Snap-snap!_

I startled when a hand appeared in front of my face and fingers were popped only a few inches from my nose. I jerked back, which only woke up the ear ache. "What the...?"

"Are you listening to me, Sheppard? Stop playing with your drinkie and pay attention!" Rodney was scowling and made a motion to pull away the coffee cup.

I growled back and wrapped both hands around the fading warmth. "At your peril, McKay," I threatened.

He sniffed and sat back. "Fine. At least you're getting some color back. Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Was it important?"

"_Everything_ I say is important, Sheppard! Haven't you figured that out yet?" He certainly had the imperious look down pat, but was ruining it by drumming his fingers on the table.

"Everything?" I drawled. "How about that argument you had with Silberman as to which of the Star Trek captains could take a Wraith? Or the lecture you gave the kitchen staff on the proper use of cinnamon? Or the discussion you had with that guy over in climatology over the feasability of freezing corridor floors so exploration patrols could cover more ground by ice skating...?"

He turned a little red but refused to back down. "_Everything_, Colonel. And hasn't anyone told you, you shouldn't eavesdrop?"

"It isn't eavesdropping, McKay, when people on the moon can hear you."

"This planet doesn't have a moon."

"What makes you think I was talking about only this planet?" I tried the coffee again. It was tepid, but no more welcome to my stomach. Looked like I was going to have to wait a little while longer. I hate it when Beckett's right.

"Well, as I was saying before the batteries in your brain died, there's no record of Jankowitz bringing the Hamsters to Atlantis. Which means someone had to help him, which means at least one other person knew they were here." He tapped on his keyboard, then turned the monitor around to show me. "Here's a list of the people who report to Jankowitz, as well as labrats and various other techs."

I squinted and closed one eye to keep the information from jittering around too much. "That's a lot of people, McKay."

I heard him sigh. "Well, yes. That's what happens in a situation like Atlantis. People get shared around. We can't afford to have people who can only do one thing." He looked up past my shoulder, but when I tried to turn around the room spun and I had to close my eyes and lean on the table to get it to stop.

There was a firm hand on my shoulder and alarmed, Rodney said, "Hey, you all right?"

"Aye, son. I heard ya had a bit of excitement?" Another hand on my other shoulder, and I opened my eyes to see Carson frowning at the mug I had a death grip on. "That isn't coffee, now is it?"

"Yes, but its medicinal coffee." I felt steady enough to loosen my grip and look up to see Beckett's unhappy expression. "Its keeping me from killing Jankowitz and his damned Hamsters." I gave Rodney an evil look but he was pretending to be deeply engrossed in his laptop. _Don't look at me. I didn't call Beckett. I'm not the tattletale you're looking for._ Right.

Carson looked confused, and shot a glance over the top of my head towards Rodney. "There are hamsters on Atlantis?"

"Hades Happy Hamsters," Rodney corrected, abandoning the _I'm not here, I'm not listening_ innocent look. "You remember? Those bright goldie-yellow fuzzy things that tried to follow us home?"

"Oh, aye. I also remember we said none could be brought back for pets." He lifted my chin gently, and tilted my head from side to side. I closed my eyes against the three Carsons that appeared and gulped. "Sorry, son. Let me take a look at ya."

Rodney babbled on about hamsters, quarantines and God only knows what else as Beckett examined the scratches and cleaned them up. McKay's voice faded into a comfortable background static as the adrenaline faded and Carson gently swabbed my hands and face, his brogue randomly interrupting the rapid fire chatter coming from my other side.

Closing my eyes all together made the room feel like it was on the end of a chain, but it wasn't too bad if I kept them partially closed. Carson's face said _Not as bad as I expected_, and his touch was soft and firm at the same time. There wasn't the hurry of _Oh, God!_ or the exasperation of _How did you manage that!_ or even worse, Tropical Storm Beckett of _How many times do I have to tell you..._

I started to relax...and then the antiseptic hit.

"Jesus, Carson! What are you using! Battery acid!" I bolted up from the chair, but a hand on each shoulder shoved me back down. I shook my right hand in the air, trying to get rid of the burning, and the room bounced up and down as well.

"Keep yer boots on, Colonel. Doona be such a baby. Its only a wee sting, and its fer yer own good." He grabbed my left hand and more antiseptic was spread on. I tried to smack his hands away from my face, but he pointed out I could cooperate here, or have it done in the infirmary, and I endured the last of it with gritted teeth.

Rodney looked me over worriedly. "What about rabies, Carson? Do you think he needs rabies shots?"

"_Rabies_?" I started to get up again, only to be shoved back down.

"No, Rodney, I doona think he needs rabies shots." He screwed the cap back on the bottle of antiseptic and handed it to me. "But I do want ya ta put more of this on after ya've had a shower. Any place tha skin is broken, Colonel. And yer ta come and see me if any of those scratches get inflamed or hot."

I looked at the bottle distrustfully but took it. He'd find something worse if I refused.

"And as long as I'm here, let's take a wee look in yer ears. Still dizzy, are ya?" He looked in my right ear, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Rodney making faces at my left.

"Keep it up, McKay, and I'll tell Weir about some of the more interesting uses for Kool-Aid your scientists have come up with lately. Need I mention the recent complaint about shampoo from a certain long haired chemist?"

He leaned back to give Carson room to look in my other ear. "Just checking to make sure there really is something keeping your ears apart other than positive air pressure. And I have no idea what you're talking about."

Beckett slipped the 'scope back into his pocket. "I doona want ta know. I never saw anyone in my infirmary with purple hair, and yer ears are looking good, Colonel." He narrowed his eyes a bit. "Ya _are_ taking tha Antivert, aren't ya?"

I was saved from having to outright lie by Radek's voice at the door.

"Colonel? Rodney? Dr. Beckett? Why you in closet?"

I managed to turn around without my head falling off, and Zelenka was standing in the partially open door, looking confused. "Closet?"

Zelenka waved his hand around. "Closet. Here."

"This isn't a closet, Radek. Its Lab Seven. Says so, right outside. Dr. Hemmelwhite's," I answered.

"No, this is closet. For things not broken enough for throwing out. Was _supposed_ to be Lab Seven, but door stick." He patted the partially open door. "Not have time to fix. Many more rooms available with non-sticking doors. So move Dr. Hemmelwhite to lab 12–down hall."

"So the note you supposedly got from Dr. Hemmelwhite...telling you to meet him here...had to be a fake." Rodney looked thoughtful, then peeved. "Why didn't I know Hemmelwhite had been moved to lab 12, Zelenka?"

"How should I know? Maybe not read weekly status report? Maybe not read e-mail? Maybe not pay attention to lab sheet posted in common room? Maybe great Dr. McKay too embarrassed to admit to lack of literacy skills?" Radek shoved his glasses farther up on his nose and shook his head, making his hair briefly resemble dandelion fluff.

"_My_ literacy skills...!" McKay started, and was cut off by Beckett.

"Colonel, yer ta go back ta yer room and rest. And I mean _rest_. No playin' with Ancient toys, no meetings with missin' scientists in closets, no coffee, no _nothing._ Startin' _now._" He pushed the now cold coffee out of my reach and put a hand under my elbow. It was easier to get up and let him steady me while the room danced, than to put out the energy to stay where I was.

"Really, I'm fine, Doc. I need to find out who's decided to make my life miserable and I can't do it in my room."

Uh-oh. Tropical Storm Beckett was on the horizon.

"Your room, or a bed in the infirmary." The Highland heather had been replaced with Highland bedrock. It was a daunting metamorphous.

"I am _not_ going to my quarters, Beckett!"

III

So I sat in my room, trying to decide if assigning the good doctor to the next 10 off world missions was worth what he was likely to do in retaliation. And, while with careful planning I might only be able to make him generally miserable, he has the capability of making my life thoroughly wretched. I was going to have to be cautious in how I arranged my revenge.

In the meantime, I had found the medication bottles and gulped down one of the anti-vertigo pills and two of the Tylenol and codeine. The quilting bee in my right ear had gotten quite excited about the Hamsters from Hell and I think they were trying to tattoo a picture of the little beasties on the inside of my skull. The left ear was feeling ignored and had started a really annoying ringing and buzzing that rose and fell in pitch. Every time I thought it was going to stop, something in there got wound up and produced another variation. The least they could do was synchronize themselves so I'd have a chance of having a little quiet in-between choruses.

I had a shower and dabbed more liquid fire on the scratches. Fresh clothes made a minor dent in my bad mood. The pants had survived the claws and teeth just fine–good ol' American military broadcloth–but the shirt would need mending before it was wearable. I emptied the pants pockets and dropped everything on the dresser, and threw the dirty clothes in the basket.

I was catching my breath and waiting for the Tylenol to kick in when my door suddenly opened and Rodney dashed in. He ordered the door to close so fast I thought he was going to leave one cheek in the jamb, looked around quickly and said, "Is it safe?"

I let my heart calm down a few beats a minute and scowled. "McKay...what the hell kind of performance was that? Don't you knock? I could have taken your head off!"

He glared back. "I _did_ knock! Is it my fault you didn't hear me? No. Is it my fault you don't answer your chimes? No! I'm standing in the hallway, trying to tell if Dr. I-Have-A-Needle-With-Your-Name-On-It is still in here tucking you in for your afternoon nap, and you don't even bother opening the door!" He huffed, grabbed his laptop and made himself at home on the end of my bed. "And what were you going to do? Knock me out with the Sweat Socks of Doom?"

"McKay, that doesn't make sense, even to me. How would I..."

He waved one hand in a sort of eraser motion. "Shut up for a minute." Clicking his comm he said, "All clear. Get over here, now."

"_McKay..._" I wondered how bad it would be if I took another Tylenol. Somehow I was afraid there wasn't enough codeine in Atlantis to get me through one of Rodney's more hyper phases.

He sprang up from the bed and hit the activator plate. Zelenka slipped in, smiling. "Colonel. How are you?"

"Confused." I rubbed my right temple, trying to calm the earache without actually touching my ear. It didn't work very well.

A second smack of the door plate let in Teyla and Ronon. Ronon was carrying a large tray of sandwiches and juice boxes. Rodney's eyes lit up. "Terrific idea!" He reached for a sandwich and Teyla swatted him on the back of the hand. "Hey!"

"You are more than capable of getting your own food, Dr. McKay," Teyla said with a little smile. "Let Colonel Sheppard have something to eat, first."

I wasn't really feeling all that hungry...I think it had something to do with the codeine...but thanked Teyla for her thoughtfulness. I started to pass the tray to Rodney, but Ronon took hold of it, took the first juice box and sandwich from the pile, and dropped them in my lap.

"Eat while you can," he rumbled, taking two sandwiches for himself. "Who knows what may interfere with the next meal."

"Good advice," Rodney sniped, "Providing _someone_ doesn't eat all the food first!" He grabbed a sandwich, unwrapped an edge, and peeled up one corner of the bread. "What is this?"

Ronon swallowed the bite in his mouth. "Peanut butter and jelly. With crackers."

"Crackers?" Rodney let the bread fall back on the sandwich.

"I like my food to crunch." Ronon took one of the juice boxes and used a tiny knife he slipped from somewhere on his person to poke a hole in the top of the waxed paperboard. Upending the box over his mouth, he squeezed the juice out in a quick stream, emptying the container in a couple of gulps.

Teyla closed her eyes briefly, and Radek just stared.

"Um, Ronon? There's a straw attached to the side of the box. See? Right there. That's what we use to drink out of boxes like these." Gingerly I leaned forward and pointed to the pristine straw, still in its cellophane wrapper, stuck to the side of the Apple Juice from Concentrate.

He shrugged. "I know. This is faster."

I didn't have an answer for that.

"Never mind about that," Rodney said impatiently. "We're here to figure out who's been causing these incidents."

_We are?_ "We are?" News to me. And you'd think, as everyone had chosen my quarters in which to discuss this, someone would have clued me in.


	11. Chapter 11

My goodness, you are all so patient! Well, except for the occasional threats of feet! Um, and the pleading. Hard to ignore the pleading. Anybody wanna write some reports for me?

III

The room wasn't meant to hold five people, and I was a little short on seating, but that didn't deter McKay. Ronon seemed content to hold up a wall, and Teyla had just folded herself up on the floor. Zelenka eyed the bed where Rodney had plopped himself down, but apparently decided it was safer to carefully perch on the edge of my desk.

Rodney stuffed the end of his sandwich in his mouth and booted up his ever present laptop.

"No crumbs in the bed, McKay," I told him, with as much menace as I could muster against the growing chorus of unpleasant ear noises. I got an aimless hand wave in reply, the one that said _oh, please, like I have the time or inclination to pay attention to whatever tiny complaint you have at the moment._

"Okay, people! Everybody know what's been going on?" McKay got a couple of nods and a stare. "I'll take that as a yes. And just to review, so far we've had fire extinguisher foam in Sheppard's quarters, here; a misplaced dangerous artifact in my lab; the exploding computer in Sheppard's so called office; and the Hamsters loose in a malfunctioning lab." He paused to pound on the keyboard a moment and I wondered again how many he went through in a year. Was there an elephant's graveyard of dead keyboards somewhere, exchanging stories of how they'd been beaten by a man who thought typing harder equaled typing faster?

"_Sheppard!_ Are you listening or not?" A wad of sandwich wrap hit me in the chest.

"What?" Okay. So it wasn't the best response. But my head and ear hurt and someone was practicing with an entire tribal percussion band in my skull. I sipped some juice and decided I didn't like my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to crunch.

"I _said_ has anyone else heard of other weirdness happening around here lately?" I got a McKay glare and a rolling wrist wave. _Come on, come on, think people._

"Perhaps it would help if you could define 'weirdness' a little?" asked Teyla.

"Yes, after all, we are in middle of ocean in city 10,000 years old with computers that work only for people with special gene, while ugly aliens in need of extreme make-over try to suck life from us using hands with unnatural long fingernails." Zelenka looked innocently at Rodney. "Think we are already surrounded by weirdness."

"Thank you, Radek, for that totally useless review of our situation. Its always good to have someone on a team who thinks his job is to remind everyone of the obvious." McKay's voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Zelenka seemed immune.

"Is a good job. Helps to make sure other genius team members remember where they are and what they are supposed to be doing. Easy to get lost in analysis of co-efficient of hair color when applied to wearing of leather boots and forget ass is very close to being kicked by same boots."

Rodney started to turn red and a hand came up to provide visual punctuation for whatever he was going to say, but I interrupted with, "Play nice, McKay. And besides...I thought it was _my_ job to kick your ass."

"Is big enough to share kicking of," Radek smirked, but clamped down on whatever else he was going to say when I raised a warning hand in his direction.

"_Weirdness_," Rodney repeated with clenched teeth. "Strange activities. Out of place happenings. Something that can't be easily explained even by our present definition of weird."

There was a momentary silence. Either no one wanted to offer a comment, or, more likely, couldn't come up with something that exceeded our present situation in weirdness.

"Why doesn't the cafeteria ever run out of jello? That seems weird to me." Ronon's voice sounded like it was rumbling up from his toes. "And when they _do_ run out, its always the flavor I like. Why don't they ever run out of the flavors I _don't_ like?"

"Jello flavors is not what I had in mind," Rodney said sharply.

"Well, _I_ think its weird. You didn't say _you_ had to think so."

"Have you heard music Dr. Biro plays in her lab? Soundtracks from old musicals." Zelenka shuddered. "Very disconcerting. Should not be singing 'Mack the Knife' while doing pathology studies."

"And why do we have to eat jello with a spoon? Is it a training exercise in hand-eye coordination?" Ronon paused like this was an explanation that hadn't occurred to him before.

"Hey! I almost beat Teyla at sticks before the last mission," I contributed.

"Eat jello with a spoon. Don't eat bread on the end of a knife. Jam is a condiment, not a main meal. Pick up fried chicken with your fingers, but not fried fish. There's a _lot_ of weirdness around here." Ronon looked deep in thought. "Don't break the Marines," he continued. "Scientists are not self-preserving..."

Teyla smiled. "You have a long way to go before you can beat me, Colonel, but you are improving."

"But it'll be weird when I finally do!" I smiled back.

"Dr. Chalmbers tap dances while he programs. Is very weird to see. He say it helps him concentrate. Fine for him, but rest of us slowly going insane from repeated _tippity-tippity_."

Rodney was rubbing his forehead like it hurt. "Shut up! All of you!" He was met with four innocent gazes. "My God its like being trapped in a situation comedy run by 4-year olds!" He took a deep breath that did nothing to reduce the rather alarming shade of red he was turning. "Now that you've all demonstrated the total lack of maturity and intelligence I have always known lurked beneath your masks of civilization, do you have anything _important_ to contribute to this discussion?"

Ronon frowned in my direction. "Have I been insulted?"

"Yeah," I said, "but don't worry. He shared it around equally."

Ronon shrugged. "Okay." He paused and added, "What stinks in here?"

I glanced at the pile of dirty laundry. "Hey!"

"This isn't anything more about jello, is it?" Rodney asked. "Because I don't know about anyone else but I am not the least bit interested in hearing anything more about your ideas regarding Earth foods. Probably just Sheppard's socks, anyway."

Dex moved away from the wall, sniffing like he was homing in on a target. He turned slowly and pointed at Radek. "Over there."

Zelenka's eyes opened wide and he squeaked, "Me? Oh, no! Can assure you am most clean person. Clean clothes, clean hands, clean everything!"

Ronon advanced on the nervous scientist, still sniffing. "Not you, little man." He moved around my desk, all our eyes watching. He stalked my dresser like he was afraid it was going to jump up and attack him with my clean shirts.

He rummaged briefly in the items I'd dumped on the dresser top, bringing a couple of them up to his nose.

"If he tastes them, I'm out of here," Rodney declared to the room in general.

But Ronon seemed to find whatever had snagged his attention and held up the note I'd gotten, directing me to meet with Dr. Hemmelwhite. "This," he said, tossing it in my direction.

I looked at it again, and warily lifted it to my face. "I don't smell anything." Teyla held out a hand and I sort of flipped it down to her.

She got it off the floor and studied it. "Nor I. It is just paper."

Rodney held out an impatient hand, snapping his fingers. "Give it to me." He turned it around, held it up to the light, waved it a bit in the air.

"McKay, you're stinking up the room, waving that around." Ronon made a face and reached for it, but Rodney had that look of puzzle pieces clicking together.

"Here," he said, leaning to give it back to me. "Rub this between your hands."

"Why," I asked, my voice a little sharp from clicks and whistles that had joined the percussion section in my ears. "Will a genie appear and grant me three wishes?"

"Just do it, Sheppard." So I did. It felt like paper. It smelled like paper. It tore like paper. "Not so hard!"

McKay took back the note and pointed at Ronon. "Now go sniff his hands."

"What?" I leaned back a bit in my chair, disturbing the quilters in my right ear. "What the hell are you talking about, McKay?"

"If I'm right, and I know I am, Lassie over there is going to help solve the Hamster question. So stick out a hand and let him smell your fingers!"

I glared at McKay. The man had told me to do a number of peculiar things since we've been here, but this one was in a category of its own. All I got in return was an impatient, _what are you waiting for_ wave.

Gingerly I extended one hand and Ronon leaned over it. I restrained myself and did not make any comments along the line of _nice doggie_ or _good boy._ Dex just made a face and backed away. "Oughta wash those hands, Sheppard. Stink just like the paper."

"I knew it!" Rodney crowed, startling me again and adding yet more volume to the whistles blowing in my ear. "Fairies and gnomes!"

"What?" I said through the cacophony in my head. "Fairies and gnomes?"

"What is a fairy?" Teyla asked.

"What's a gnome?" Ronon added.

"Like Nome, Alaska?" Zelenka said, looking as confused as I felt.

"Alaska? Is that where gnomes live?" Ronon asked Radek.

"I thought Alaska was a dessert with ice cream," Teyla said. "I watched one of your cooks make it for Dr. Weir's birthday. I was very surprised your ice cream could be baked in the oven."

"With gnomes?" Ronon said, single mindedly pursuing his original question. "Ice cream baked with gnomes?"

"No, no," Radek floundered, waving his own hands in the air. "Nome is a city in Alaska!"

"Where they bake fairies?" Ronon was looking pretty confused, too. "How would the fairies have gotten here?"

I glanced at Rodney, and he was just sitting there, mouth open, watching the conversation like it was a tennis match. Then his mouth snapped shut and that spark of _Rodney-ness_ popped back in his eyes. "_Pheremones_!" he bellowed over the discussion on how to cook fairies. He looked directly at me, and with exaggerated lip movements, yelled, "Pheremones, not fairies and gnomes, you idiot!"

"Well, excuse me for not hearing you the first time," I shot back. "How inconvenient for you!"

Teyla stood up quickly and took a step so she could put a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "It was a mistake, that is all, Dr. McKay. Please tell us about these _pheremones._"

Rodney made a noise that usually meant payback was mine sometime in the future. "Pheremones," he glared in my direction, "are scents given off by animals to attract or repel other animals." He was warming now to his explanation and the red splotches on his cheeks were beginning to fade. "That note has been contaminated by pheremones that attract the Hades Hamsters." He turned to Teyla. "That's why they didn't seem very interested in you and me." He pointed at me with a thumb. "_He_ was the one who got the note, touched it, carried it around. The pheremones were transferred, in part, to him, so when the Hamsters were loose they homed in on Sheppard."

"And I still want to know who brought them through the Stargate and how they got in that room," I glowered.

"Yes, yes, no doubt. But this, like the computer and fire extinguisher, was something that had to be set up in advanced. There's no way we could explain it away as an accident, or just bad timing."

"Unless the person who prepared the note did not expect us to find out about these pheremones." Teyla patted McKay on the shoulder and turned back to stand near Radek. "We only know because Ronon could smell this odor. The rest of us cannot. Perhaps that person believes he or she is safe from investigation."

"Yes! And that's something we can take advantage of!" Rodney was busy hammering on his laptop again. "I think its about time we set a few surprises of our own!" He looked up. "Come on, Sheppard...get that military mind moving!"

"It's a little hard to think up booby traps and ambushes when we don't know where to set the traps or who to ambush," I pointed out. I rubbed my temple, trying to appease the quilters. They weren't having any of it. And I kept thinking I was missing something. Something important.

"We will." Rodney sounded very sure of himself. With my luck he was probably going to skulk around and bash people over the head with his laptop. Carson'd have a field day. And why did the word _skulk_ ring faint little bells amongst all the other noise in my head? "Anyone want to add anything before we leave?"

"What's that noise?" Ronon had that questing look on his face.

"Oh, God," Rodney moaned. "Now what?"

"Noise?" echoed Radek.

"Kind of a whirring noise. Like a bird flying."

Rodney snapped his laptop shut. "Well, then, we're safe. No birds flying around in here."

My eyes were watering from rubbing so close to my sore ear and without warning I sneezed. "Jesus!" I clapped a hand over my right ear, which only made my eyes water more.

"Bless you," McKay said automatically, and then sneezed himself. "If you've caught cold, I'll hold you personally responsible if you give it to me!" he said with a scowl.

Teyla and Radek sneezed at almost the same time, followed by an explosion of sneezing from Ronon. We were all rubbing our eyes, and the sneezing was increasing in force and frequency. My throat started to burn, and my ears were painfully protesting the pressure changes caused by the sneezes.

I heard Teyla say something about getting out of the room, but my eyes were watering so much I could barely keep them open. And _damn_ but it hurt! I could barely catch a breath between the sneezes, and I stumbled out of the chair, headed for the door.

I think I staggered into Zelenka, but before I could fall a large hand grabbed me by the upper arm. There was an eddy of cool air and I was being hauled out of my quarters into the corridor. McKay must have shut the door once we were all out because I found myself propped up against the wall between Ronon and Radek, all of us sneezing and coughing. My eyes were watering, my throat and the inside of my nose burned, and I was pretty sure I was going to sneeze my brains right out my sore ears.

I managed to get my eyes opened in brief blinks, and counted the watery shapes swimming in the hallway. "Okay?" I coughed. "Rodney?..choo!...Teyla? Ron-choo!–'n?...cough...choooo!...Radek?"

I felt a couple of rough pats on my arm and followed the wall down to sit on the floor. Rodney swam into view, his face red. "This...choo!...is war!" I told him grimly.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks to **Lu14 **and **Titan** for continuing to nudge/whine/entreat that I continue to work on this story, squeezing it in between all those reports. I apologize for taking so long, and hope people are still interested in reading!

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**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Twelve:

"Congratulations, sir."

I picked up the cloth-covered gel bag covering my eyes and forehead and frowned at Major Lorne. "For what?"

"I believe you're the first to have their personal quarters quarantined as a hazmat zone."

I glared up at him from flat on my back. We had all wound up back in the infirmary...what a surprise. Stripped, swabbed, sampled and decontaminated within an inch of our lives. It hadn't taken long to determine the cause of our sudden sneezing as a combination of cayenne pepper from the kitchen and several generally harmless chemicals.

"That's a joke, right?"

Lorne shook his head. "No, sir. Seems the delivery system spread that stuff pretty evenly throughout your room. To prevent it from being tracked out into the building, as well as protecting the cleaning crew, Dr. Beckett recommended using hazmat suits." He paused and added, "You created quite a stir. Turns out no one had a bet down for first to contaminate their quarters, although Dr. McKay is the odds on favorite for first to blow their's up."

I started to make a face, but that made the red and puffy skin around my eyes hurt. Instead, I rolled onto my side in preparation to getting my feet onto the floor. I had barely gotten over far enough get a hand in position to push when my shoulder and hip were intercepted and I was rolled back again.

"Dr. Beckett said you were to _stay_. _Staying_ is not the same thing as _going._" Sliding ceiling tiles were blocked from view when the gel pack was pulled from my hand and rearranged on my face. With my eyes covered, it was harder to understand what Nursezilla was saying through the whistles and whining my ears were providing, but a firm hand on my chest didn't need translation. I ignored what could have been snickering from the next bed.

I waited a moment, trying to separate the sounds of an average day in the infirmary from the percussion chorus in my head, then pulled up a corner of the cool baggie. "Nursezilla..." I tried to whisper to my second in command. "Is she gone?"

He nodded once, his face serious but his eyes grinning. "You're in the clear, Colonel."

"Smartass," I grumbled. Pushing the gel pack far enough up on my forehead to see out from under it, I glanced around the infirmary. Ronon, Teyla and Radek had been released soon after the nature of the noxious substance had been confirmed. Teyla had taken the decontamination process in stride, but had admitted wearing scrubs felt disconcertingly like she was wearing almost nothing. Rodney had sworn he'd seen a gleam in Ronon's eyes at the comment. Radek had started out muttering under his breath and worked his way up to a whole monologue in Czech. The nurse helping him wasn't impressed and kept sending him back into the showers to scrub more. It had taken longer to disrobe and disarm Ronon than it had taken to clean him up. While his back was turned, the nurses had played rock/paper/scissors to decide which one got to supervise him. Rodney was still in the bed next to me, having claimed to be short of breath, and suffering from contact burns, nausea and tremors. Carson had rolled his eyes, examined him and declared him fine, but allowed McKay to camp out with a gel pack of his own.

"Have you considered relocating your quarters, sir?" Lorne asked, pulling my attention back from my wary search for Nursezilla.

"No, I haven't," I growled. "I like where my quarters are now." Thinking about my room made something in the back of my brain tickle again.

"Have you considered where you might spend the next couple of nights, sir? Its going to take a while to make sure every surface is decontaminated."

"There's still the cot." McKay's voice was muffled, and something in my ear squealed while he was speaking.

"No cot!"

"Or the infirmary. It would be easy to contain the area." Lorne was pretending nonchalance.

_Contain. Contain. _That word sparked the thought I had been trying to pin down and I sat up too quickly, my head spinning. "How did someone get in my quarters, Major? _Where was the guard_?"

Lorne shot out a hand to steady me, then straightened up and scowled. "Sir. Corporal Lee left his post in response to a radio message indicating he was to report to me immediately. That message was false. Rather than confirming the call and reporting the radio contact, Corporal Lee left his post and attempted to get clarification from his next-in-command." He paused and glanced down at me. "Corporal Lee is now reviewing pertinent regulations, while cleaning cages in xenozoology. Sir."

"And the Hamsters?" There was another suspicious snigger from McKay, and I glared in his direction, but he was laying in his own bed, gel pack on his face, pretending he wasn't listening.

Lorne relaxed a little. "Dr. Jankowitz was very distressed at having to send the hamsters back to their home planet. He asked if he could keep Thomas. Said he was very attached to him."

"But not as attached as Thomas was to Sheppard."

"You're short of breath, remember, McKay?" I snarled. "And Thomas had better have gone back with the rest of his little buddies."

"He did. Dr. Jankowitz was reminded of the zero tolerance policy on Happy Hamsters. He's appealing to Dr. Weir, but given what could happen if they got loose and found the food stores, I doubt Dr. Weir will lift the ban."

"Dr. Jankowitz isn't appealing to anyone. Really...a man who smells like alien poop all the time shouldn't wonder why he can't get a date."

"McKay!" I jiggled the gel pack threateningly in my hand, but decided it would leave a bruise. And actually felt too good on my face to give up.

"Don't try to deny it, Sheppard. You've been close to the man. He smells like something that should be used to fertilize petunias."

"Shut up, McKay." Rodney was lying on his back, apparently comfortable in his general issue sweats, his hands folded on his chest and his gel pack balanced carefully on his eyes and nose. I gritted my teeth and asked, "Anything else to report, Major?"

Lorne thought for a moment. "The guards assigned to Geek Patrol need to be rotated. They're putting in for hazard pay, claiming they keep getting hit with objects thrown at Dr. Kavanaugh. Dr. Kavanaugh is complaining the guards aren't intercepting enough thrown objects. Botany is complaining they don't get as many guards as everyone else and just because no one has come across carnivorous sunflowers yet doesn't mean it isn't going to happen. Ronon's entire physical training class has called in dead and refuses to meet with him again. And quarterly reports are due."

"Business as usual, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then by all means, carry on, Major." Lorne nodded, smiled absently at a passing nurse and abandoned the infirmary with all due haste.

"I'm pretty sure that's cheating," came a muffled, Rodney-sounding voice. "And since when have the lab guards been known as the 'Geek Patrol'?" McKay lifted the gel pack off his face and sat up. "And obviously my scientists need target practice if they haven't been able to hit Kavanaugh every time."

"I'm not cheating, I'm delegating," I corrected. "I'm not scheduling target practice so your staff can improve their paper clip and stylus accuracy, and think of 'Geek Patrol' as a cute little pet name the guards have given themselves in honor of their posting."

McKay's face said, _as if_.

I was saved from Rodney's response by a hand on my shoulder. I jumped, making the infirmary dance around dizzily. When the beds had stopped prancing around by themselves, I turned my head carefully to see an apologetic Carson waiting on the other side of me.

"Sorry, son," he said with a half smile. "Didna mean ta startle ya."

"I'll forgive you if you're here to tell me I can leave." I gave him my best _I'm just dandy, no need to worry_ smile, and he replied with _don't even think about trying that on me_ lowered eyebrows.

"Well, let's see here." He fished out his stethoscope and listened to my heart and lungs. Holding my chin in his hand he carefully tilted my head to look at the irritated skin around my eyes. I held my breath and managed to keep the view down to only three Carsons until he grunted and nodded a bit. "Next time, try not ta rub yer eyes, Colonel. Its never a good idea to grind airborne irritants inta the skin."

"There isn't going to be a next time," I said, "especially after I find out who did this."

He nodded again, and withdrew a small tube from another pocket. "This will relieve some of tha sting. Use it four times a day." He glanced at the empty mug on the table next to the bed. "The soup stay down, son?"

"Yes. Elizabeth watched me drink it. I'm fine...really. And you've already discharged everyone else." Elizabeth had stopped in in time to watch Zelenka stomp by–dripping wet, his hair hanging over his glasses like a bad wig. We had talked while I'd sipped the warm soup and ordered my stomach to stay peaceful. We'd kicked around a couple of ideas of who might be behind this crap, but she'd had to leave when she got a page from someone in the gate room.

"The others didna sneeze so hard they threw up and then were too dizzy ta stand without help." Beckett watched me a bit more, and I tried to look steady and in control. Finally, he sighed and said, "Take _all_ your medicine, Colonel, not just whatever ya think ya need at the moment, and ya can go ta yer quarters. But I want ta see ya here tomorrow...ta make sure ya aren't developing an infection from tha skin irritations."

I held up one hand, palm outward. "Scout's honor, Carson." He rolled his eyes and started to walk away.

"Hey! Beckett! What about me?" McKay was sitting up in his bed, waving his arms and looking annoyed.

Carson turned around, but didn't come back. "Rodney, I discharged ya two hours ago. Nothing has changed since then...you're still discharged. Ya can leave any time ya want ta." He turned away again, shaking his head, and continued across the room.

"Humph! Comes from letting a sheepherder practice medicine." He climbed down off the bed, tossing the melting gel pack onto the blanket. He snapped his fingers irritably at me. "Come on, Sheppard, before Dr. Border Collie changes his mind and decides to keep you in the corral."

I slid off the bed more carefully, holding onto the mattress until I was sure my feet and the floor were going to remain in polite contact. I looked up to find the same hand that had been snapping fingers at me was still held out. I steadied myself against McKay's arm–Rodney pretending he wasn't standing still for my benefit, and me pretending I didn't need support until I could get moving.

"You were a Boy Scout?" McKay asked as we headed out of the infirmary.

"Nope."

III

_You're in a hammock. A nice, rocking hammock. True, hammocks don't usually move in circles, but its okay. Just don't look at the water, and the hammock'll settle down._

I had let Rodney walk me back to my quarters, but once I closed the door I got to feeling restless and claustrophobic. Not McKay claustrophobic–with the shaking and sweating and big, frightened eyes–just pilot claustrophobic. I knew I wasn't safe to fly, but I needed to get some space around me or I was going to jump out of my skin. So I gathered up a couple of blankets, grabbed my tac vest and a bottle of water, and made my way down to one of the lesser used balconies. Here I'd stashed a tarp from one of the _Daedalus'_ shipments, a couple of small crates to use as tables or footstools, and a pair of chairs liberated from one of the labs. The metal chair legs were a bit bent, making them a little rocky to sit on, but they were waterproof and free.

So I pulled a crate up to my favorite chair–the one Ronon had bent the back on, so now it kind of reclined–and sat down. I was sweating from dizziness and the nausea it was encouraging, and I was beginning to see more chairs than I knew I had brought out, but once I stopped moving around my head and gut calmed down. I put my feet up on the crate, and rerolled one of the blankets to put behind my neck for a pillow. I exhaled a sigh I didn't realize I'd been holding, and wiggled a little to get comfortable. Now I was trying to convince myself the feeling of rocking was just an old hammock I was laying in, and had nothing to do with the motion of the water against railing and horizon.

Slowly, piece by piece, my body relaxed. The breeze from the water dried my sweaty face, and felt wonderfully cool. As the dizziness subsided, the number of chairs and crates returned to normal, and the headache that had been lurking, faded. The smell of the ocean was subtly different here than I was used to, but was still fresh and crisp. I know its just the concentration of salts, minerals and algae, but an ocean always smells like _life_ to me.

I let the late afternoon sun warm the thin cotton sweat pants and shirt I'd gotten in the infirmary, all our clothes having been bagged for decontamination, and I toed off the ridiculous slipper-sock things we'd been given in lieu of our boots. Bending down gingerly to retrieve my tac vest from where I'd dropped it next to the chair, I fished out the water bottle and the Tylenol and codeine. With everything else happily settled, the quilting bee in my right ear had taken over and it felt like someone was using a drill to make holes in my jaw and part of my skull. A couple of bites of a power bar, flavor unknown, to help wash down the pills, and I dropped the vest back on the balcony. I sipped from the water bottle a little more, then held it up to my face, relishing the cool moisture on my irritated skin.

When I opened my eyes again, the other blanket was unfolded over my legs and feet, and Teyla was holding out the water bottle. My chair was now in shadow, as dusk descended. I took the water bottle and straightened up just enough to drink without choking myself. "How long you been here?" I asked, as I capped it. I checked my watch. I'd been asleep for a couple of hours. Maybe I should have eaten more than just part of a power bar when I took those pills.

"Not long, Colonel," Teyla smiled. "Once Dr. McKay realized you were no longer in your room, we started to search for you. It did not take long to find you here, but as you did not seem to be in distress Ronon and I decided to let you sleep."

"Thanks," I said, and I meant it.

"Dr. McKay wanted to call Dr. Beckett and have you returned to the infirmary, but Ronon and I also understand the need to be somewhere where the eye can rest on a horizon. I tried to explain this to Dr. McKay but he prefers the safety of walls." She smiled again, and let her eyes linger on the darkening waves. "Ronon felt a more...direct...approach might be better understood, and he convinced Dr. McKay to let you rest uninterrupted."

I blinked. "He did? How did he manage that?"

"He threatened to tell Dr. McKay's staff where Rodney hides his M&M's."

I laughed, imagining the feeding frenzy if the lab rats knew where Rodney's secret stash was.

Teyla touched her ear piece. "He is awake."

Within minutes, the door slid open and McKay burst through. "Finally! Sheppard, you're going to be the death of me yet! Whatever gave you the harebrained idea to hide out here? You could have fallen over the edge! Caught pneumonia! Been eaten by a sea monster with huge tentacles and radioactive suckers!" He was wringing his hands and eyeing the open water with distrust.

"Radioactive suckers? Have you been watching old _Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea_ episodes again?" I pulled the blanket off my legs, folded it, then dropped my feet to the balcony.

"Oh, ha ha. You laugh, but we don't know what's down there. Could be anything! And we won't know until something jumps up and decides we'd make tasty appetizers!" He started when the doors slid open again and then scowled when Ronon and Zelenka walked out, carrying loaded trays.

"Appetizers?" echoed Radek, allowing Teyla to relieve him of some of the containers piled on his tray. "Did not bring appetizers."

"_You're_ the appetizer, Zelenka, so you'd better be careful!" Rodney snagged one of the containers and opened the lid. "What is this? It doesn't have citrus in it, does it?"

Radek looked directly at me and shrugged. "Sometimes better not to ask for explanation," he said with an eye roll. "No citrus, Rodney. Not in anything. Chef very careful. Besides...be too easy to kill you with citrus. Not earn much money in betting pool."

"Czech humor. Funny, Zelenka." Rodney let the lid on the container he was holding snap back down. "What's in that one?"

With Rodney's interference, we eventually got food spread out among us. I wasn't all that hungry, but little tidbits kept ending up on an empty plate near me. "Chef say you like these," Radek said, putting a bunch of sort-of-grapes near me.

Ronon peered in a couple of containers then dumped one on my plate. "The cook guy said you liked tacos." He paused to inspect the rolled up concoction. "What's a taco?"

Rodney pointed at my plate. "Its not that. Tacos are supposed to have hard, crunchy shells with stuff in them. That's more like a fajita."

Ronon nodded, satisfied. "Got it. Tacos are like the _nermee_ that live on the shore on Polldant. Dig 'em out of the sand, break off their heads and rinse them in fresh water. Good eating."

Rodney stared. "Not going there," he said, his mouth full.

Zelenka set his plate aside and dug in a small duffle bag. "Thought you might like to see cause of today's trouble, Colonel," he said, setting a small device on one crate.

We all leaned in to look a little closer. It was near dark now, and the light from the doors into Atlantis wasn't enough to illuminate the object, but Radek dug a flashlight out of the same duffle, and turned it on.

"Find it in air vent. Is very clever, actually," he said, playing the light over something a little bigger than a softball. "Has place, here, to store chemicals. Do not worry, I clean very well. No chemicals left," he added quickly. "Here, small fan, for blowing mixture into air."

Rodney frowned. "That would disperse the chemicals, but there still needs a way to get them from the storage tank to the fan." He snapped his fingers a couple of times and said, "Pressure."

Zelenka nodded. "I believe so, yes. Store chemicals under pressure, then release." He pointed the flashlight at another part. "Valve, here, behind fan."

"But what was the trigger?" Rodney asked, poking the object with his fork.

Radek smacked the fork away and pulled the object a little farther out of Rodney's reach. "At first I thought timer, but couldn't find one. But analysis show residue of volatile chemical, here, near fan. This very clever." He rotated the device to show me, but it was really too dark for me to see.

"In here, small spring. Not _boing boing_ spring, but wind up spring, like clock."

"_Boing boing_ spring?" Rodney echoed.

Radek ignored him. "Mix chemicals, store under pressure behind valve. Wind spring and connect to fan. Block valve and spring with solid form, volatile chemical. Chemical evaporates, valve release mixture, spring drive fan, big mess in room." He sat back and admired the gadget. "Very clever."

"But how would the person who did this know the chemical would release the mixture when we were in the room? Or even if just I was in the room?" I stared at this thing with distaste. Someone had _way_ too much time on their hands.

"Evaporation rate of chemical would be known, Colonel," Zelenka said, picking up the gadget to set it back in his duffle. "Temperature in room would be variable. More people, more heat, faster evaporation. But I think person who make this not really care if chemical timer unreliable. Only need to spread chemical around your room. Contaminate anything you touch, eat, sleep on." He shrugged. "Good luck for person who make this, we all together in your room. Bad luck for us."

"Bad luck when I find the person who made this," rumbled Ronon.

Teyla was helping Radek pick up our impromptu picnic. "I still do not understand why someone would go to all this trouble. This is more than the kind of pranks you have explained to me. What if someone fell, or was hurt badly?" She tucked several containers together onto a tray, and as she turned for more, Rodney removed two of them and peeked to see what was left inside. She turned back, three more containers in her hands, and frowned, but carefully stacked the second batch in with what was left of the first.

"This is beyond pranks," I confirmed. "At the least, someone is being mean spirited. At the most, someone is actively trying to hurt personnel." I handed a container to Teyla, and found more sort-of-grapes on my plate.

"But who? That's still the big question," Rodney said, retrieving a container from where Zelenka had stacked it. "We can't just go around Atlantis asking people, 'hi! build a sneezing bomb lately?'"

"No," I said, wondering where the fruit cookies and three extra juice boxes now on my plate had come from. "But nearly every incident has had something in common..."

"...chemicals," Zelenka nodded. He'd stopped picking up containers, and was now building a castle out of empty juice boxes. He added an empty water bottle for a turret.

"As much as I hate Kavanaugh, we still can't just haul out all the chemists and torture them until one of them admits to having a predilection for remodeling through modern chemistry." Rodney now had more of the containers piled next to him than Teyla and Radek had managed to get onto trays.

"We can't?" Ronon said, sounding disappointed.

"No, we can't," I said firmly. "But we don't have to sit back and wait for the next incident, either. I think its time to turn the tables on whoever is doing this, starting with people who have access to the kind of chemicals Dr. Z's been finding. I want you all to start thinking of _non-violent_..." I glared at Ronon, who looked disgruntled, "...ways to disrupt things. Nothing that's going to seriously affect the running of Atlantis or the gate. Just something to let whoever is doing this know we're coming after them."

Ronon raised his head to look directly at me. "Flushing the prey. But what about bait?"

"That's Rodney and me. We seem to be the targets, and I'm still confined to base, so we'll still be tempting to whoever is doing this."

Rodney stopped collecting containers. "_Target_? I don't want to be a target! I'm a bad target! Can't I be one of the people who think up disruptions?"

"Oh, you don't have to think up disruptions," I said with false consolation. "You're disruptive all on your own, without any thought involved."

Rodney folded his arms in front of him. "Remember whose room is still quarantined, and who still has a cot, Colonel."

Teyla took advantage of Rodney's snark to scoop up the containers he had set aside, and pile them on the trays. Somehow, a cup of granola clusters and another bottle of water had appeared on my plate.

"I'm sleeping out here, tonight, Rodney. But thanks for the offer." Zelenka stood up, stretched, slung his duffle over his shoulder and pushed the flashlight over towards me. "Good night, Colonel. Do not let the appetizers bite." He winked, picked up one of the trays and walked back into Atlantis.

"Are you out of your mind, Sheppard? You can't sleep out here...what about sea monsters? And rain?" Rodney reached for one of the remaining containers, and got a slap on the wrist from Teyla. "If you don't want to sleep on the cot, I'm sure Carson would let you sleep in the infirmary."

"I don't want to sleep in the infirmary, Rodney. There aren't any sea monsters, and I'd like to think I'm smart enough to come in from the rain. This isn't any different from sleeping outdoors when we're in the field. In fact, its probably a lot safer."

"I'll stay," Ronon grunted. "It's a nice night. Too nice to sleep indoors."

"Wonderful. Madness is catching. Well, when you discover some horrible sea creature has mistaken your hair for exotic seaweed and is nibbling it into interesting patterns, don't come running to me." Rodney stood up in a huff. Before he could leave, Teyla shoved the loaded tray into his hands. "And I'm not a pack mule!"

"Of course you aren't. Have a good night, Colonel." Rodney, still complaining about the horrors of sea monsters and cafeteria trays, was chivvied by Teyla towards the building. The closing doors cut off his voice, leaving Ronon and I in silence.

I tossed the other blanket in his direction. "Want the other chair?"

"Nah. Floors fine. Be right back." He went inside but came back out again a few minutes later, two pillows and several more blankets in his arms. He dumped a blanket and a pillow on me, and the rest on the balcony floor. "Good place for sleeping in mild weather," he said as I stared in surprise. "Closet right near the bathroom. Might as well use it." He made up his bed without fuss, then lay down, his arms folded behind his head.

I shifted about in my chair, but it wasn't really meant for long term sleeping, as my back informed me. I stood up, gathering the blankets and pillow.

"Sheppard?" Ronon didn't get up, but his eyes watched my every move.

I arranged a couple of blankets on the floor for a little padding. It was still too warm to cover up, so I folded one of the extras at the bottom, and put the pillow at the top. Careful, in case the change in position started up the vertigo in earnest, I eased myself down. It felt way too good to stretch out, and I groaned in pleasure.

"You okay?" Ronon asked.

"I'm fine." I sighed again, and clicked off the flashlight. So I was grounded for a while. Tomorrow, Atlantis was going to discover what could happen when a genius scientist and a puckish engineer were provoked.


	13. Chapter 13

Hello everyone still patient enough to be reading! I apologize for the amount of time RL is demanding from me, and am embarrassed by how long its taken to get this chapter up. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I've been neglectful about responding, but will try to be better. And a special thank you to **Kitty** who politely pointed out an egregious error in chapter twelve, which I will fix as soon as I can. (Red face)

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**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Thirteen:

I was walking along the beach in Antarctica, the sand crunching under my bare feet, listening to the sound of the woodpeckers and cicadas. The ocean smelled unusually warm, but I shrugged and kept going. Some scientist would buttonhole me and insist on explaining tropical currents, or something, to me when I went back.

A wave washed up over my feet, and while the ocean might _smell_ warm, the water was still cold. I shook off one foot, then the other, and stepped a little higher up on the beach. The next wave sloshed up after me, getting my feet again, and I frowned with annoyance. I hadn't brought anything to dry myself off with, and must have left my boots and socks back where I'd started.

The woodpecker paused and said, "Well, my butt's numb, so cover your own feet!"

_With what?_ I thought, annoyed even more. Couldn't it see I'd left my socks behind?

The woodpecker pounded furiously for a minute, then said, "With your blanket. And either wake up or go back to sleep, because I'm not interested in holding a conversation with you when you're like this."

O-o-okay. That was a lot more than I ever remember hearing from a woodpecker before.

"Woodpeckers? What the hell are you talking about, Sheppard?"

A flying fish poked me in the hip, and Antarctica's beach started to dissolve. I realized I was stretched out, more or less on my stomach, on something hard, and my feet were cold. The smell of the ocean was still in the background, but much closer to my face it smelled like dust and chalk and powdered stone.

"Ah! Decided to join the rest of us, have you?" Rodney's voice came from somewhere over my head.

I lifted my head from the pillow and grumbled, "Too early. Still dark," and let my head drop back down.

"Open your eyes."

Oh.

I blinked a couple of times and realized I was tangled up in the blankets from last night, looking at a pair of boots. I followed the boots up to legs, and the legs up to a laptop perched precariously on Rodney's knees. "What time is it?"

McKay snapped the lid down on his computer and peered at me. "Half past breakfast and a quarter to brunch." He stood up and stretched. "And is there a compelling reason why you didn't think to equip your little hideaway with chair cushions? Marines may have buns of steel, and I've seen those little buckets you pilots claim are seats in planes, but there's no reason to carry the military tendency towards masochistic behavior this far."

I let Rodney's complaints wash past me as I gathered up the blankets and folded them neatly. My right ear was buzzing, which I decided explained the cicadas in my dream, but didn't hurt as much, which I took as a good sign. Unfortunately, pleased with a good night's sleep and the improvement in my ears, I stood up too fast and the balcony whirled around me.

"Sheppard? Sheppard! Are you all right?" Rodney grabbed me by my upper arm with one hand, and a handful of my sweatshirt with the other. "Sit down!"

"No moving!" I said, spreading my feet a little farther apart and taking a couple of deep breaths. "Just stand still, McKay!"

"The only one moving is you, Colonel, and that's face first onto the deck. My God, you've gone all white. I'm calling Beckett."

The balcony was settling down, and I opened my eyes to see Rodney nearly nose to nose with me. "No, its all right. I just stood up too fast. Give me a minute."

Rodney backed a way a little, but maintained a death grip on my arm. "Okay, you're getting a little color back, but you should sit down or something."

I peeled his fingers off my arm and shook my hand to get the feeling back. "So I can fall on my face again when I stand back up? And doesn't that just sound like fun. Forget it."

McKay fumbled a bottle of water from the other side of his chair, and handed it to me. "Then how about you take Carson's magic pills and see if you can't _stay_ up. Unless you've developed some perverse fascination with recreating Ethel Merman dives over the railing." Shaking the bottle with one hand, he impatiently snapped the fingers of his other. "Come on, come on...don't have all day here."

I looked around, careful not to move my head too fast. Where the hell had I left the pill bottles last night?

Rodney rolled his eyes and shoved the water bottle into my hands. Bending down, he scooped the pill bottles off the deck where they'd rolled up against one of the crates. "How you ever survive on your own continues to be a mystery," he snarked, waving one of the orange tinted cylinders under my nose.

I grabbed the bottles back and took one of the pills for vertigo. No codeine today, if I could manage it. "I'll add it to my list of really important questions, like if a lab blows up but there's no scientists around to claim the credit, do I have to authorize the request voucher for $2500 worth of replacement glassware?"

McKay's reply was too soft for me to hear, but the scowl on his face indicated it was probably just as well.

When my world settled into a less active mode, we finished picking up, setting the chairs against the wall to keep them from blowing away in high winds and becoming a hazard. "Where's Ronon?" I asked, noticing his bedding had already been taken up.

McKay shoved the last crate up against the wall and shrugged. "How should I know? Probably out hunting down lunch with only his hands and teeth. Or frightening the new Marines under the guise of teaching Wraith-hunting techniques. Or both. He paged me this morning and said you were sleeping, and if you didn't come to breakfast with Teyla I was to come out here and not wake you up." He snorted. "He probably got tired of listening to you talk to woodpeckers. Hey! Isn't that _my_ tac vest?"

III

I had to submit to more poking by Carson. He'd look in my ear with his little flashlight, then stick something roughly the size of Teyla's baton in far enough to use my eyeballs for shuttlecocks. Then, as he'd shove me back down on the examining table he'd ask, "That hurt, son?" Not for the first time I wondered if doctors took some sort of Asking Stupid Questions class as part of their training. But not smacking him on the back of the head and asking, "That hurt, doc?" got me a shower and a clean set of clothes, procured by one of the nurses. Now my ear _did_ hurt, but I was able to push aside the ache and assure Beckett I was fine.

Escaping the infirmary, I met McKay in the mess for a late breakfast, although now that my eyes were focusing, it wasn't really that late–just past 0800. The main rush of military personnel getting to their posts had passed, and there would be a steady stream of civilians wandering in and out for another hour or so.

I put a cup of granola and a slice of toast on my tray and accepted a glass of some kind of juice. The idea of fried eggs made my stomach unhappy, but I figured I'd be able to handle oatmeal. The young Marine behind the hot table scooped a ladle out of a large kettle, tapped the contents into a bowl, and handed the bowl over the glass. I paused.

"Oatmeal?" I asked, peering in the bowl.

"Yes, sir."

"Its pink."

"Yes, sir."

"Why are you serving pink oatmeal, Corporal?"

"Because the blue is all gone, sir."

I frowned. "Is this a joke?"

The Corporal sighed. "Apparently, sir."

Still frowning, I carried my tray over to where Rodney was busy making a sandwich out of toast and sausage links. He looked up as I sat down across the table from him. "My oatmeal is pink," I said, stirring it a bit distrustfully.

"Excellent grasp of the obvious, Colonel. No wonder you're a pilot, what with those sharp observational skills of yours." He took a bite of his sandwich, trying to keep one of the sausages from rolling out the side of the toast. "Don't be a baby. Its just food coloring. That's what the cook said earlier."

"But its _pink_."

"They must be out of the blue."

I watched him take a bite of his sandwich, then I warily held a spoonful of pink mush under my nose. Well...it did _smell_ like oatmeal.

"Don't just play with it, Sheppard. Eat it." Rodney slurped some coffee and then waved the mug at me. "When Weir calls for you, just tell her you don't know."

I touched the pink stuff to my tongue. It _tasted_ like oatmeal. "Know what?"

"Anything. It won't be a stretch for you, anyway." He gave me a disgusted look and shoved some sugar packets in my directions. "Here. Put some sugar on the top. It'll disguise the color and you'll never notice."

I nibbled a few gummy flakes off the end of the spoon. It certainly had the texture of military oatmeal–sticky, overcooked and easily confused with kindergarten paste. I was startled as a shower of crystals sprinkled down over my spoon, bowl, sleeve, fingers, and part of the table.

"There. Its white." Rodney tossed away a handful of shredded sugar packets, which explained the snowdrifts on the table. "Happy now? So finish it up before it gets cold and even more intractable. Oatmeal should not need to be eaten with a knife and fork. And no matter what Weir asks, the answer is 'I don't know what you're talking about.'"

I shook off some of the sugar and put the spoonful in my mouth. Okay. It was oatmeal. Pink...but oatmeal. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He waved the coffee mug at me again, sloshing a little over the rim. "Good. That's exactly it." Another bite of sandwich disappeared in his mouth.

"But I _don't_ know what you're talking about!" I said crossly. First pink oatmeal, and now riddles.

Rodney frowned. "I wouldn't use that tone of voice with her. A little sharp. I'd stay with the bewildered and over your head you do so well."

"Rodney"

He waved away my growl with a sausage that had escaped from the end of the bread. "Trust me. Its for your own good."

A quick shift of his eyes told me he'd been paged on his comm. He was right about the oatmeal. The longer I let it set, the harder it was to convince it to give me my spoon back. I ate a couple more lukewarm bites and chased them down with the juice.

"No problem, Elizabeth. He's just finishing up his breakfast. As soon as he's washed his little face and hands I'll send him right to you." He touched his comm again to break the link, and made a _hurry up_ gesture with the sausage. "Weir. As soon as you're finished." He stuffed the sausage in his mouth and washed it down with coffee. "And remember..._you don't know anything._ You're clueless. Out of the loop. Have no idea what's going on..."

"_McKay_..." I growled again.

"In other words, just be yourself."

III

I hadn't gotten any more information out of Rodney while I finished eating, so I wasn't in a particularly good mood as I headed up to Elizabeth's office. Obviously, there was something going on Rodney knew about, and Weir was going to think _I_ knew about, except I didn't. It couldn't be anything dangerous to Atlantis or I would certainly had been told. Rodney didn't look like something had gone wrong in a lab, or anyone was hurt. He just looked smug. And that made me nervous.

I took my time. I was still leery of the transporters, so I tried to look like I was just out for a stroll. So what if I tended to tilt to the right and smack into the wall when I made right turns? Or stumble over my own feet when I turned my head too quickly? I only had to stop and wait for the world to stop moving around me once, and that was when I was nearly run over by a caterwaul of scientists pounding down the middle of the corridor. I hoped they were running towards something interesting, and not away from something explosive.

I smiled hello at the Canadian on duty at the 'Gate console and knocked on the open door to Elizabeth's office.

She looked up and smiled. "John! Come in! You're looking better."

I grinned and dropped into a chair, glad to let my body have a chance to get its equilibrium settled. "Doin' good," I told her.

We continued chatting aimlessly for the couple of minutes it took her to save her work and lock down her computer. I'm always amazed at how neat and clean her desk is. I know she has even more paperwork to do than me–after all, when I complete mine it goes to her next, as does the paperwork from every other department head. Yet while my office looked like the stash of a paper kleptomaniac, her desk has only a couple tasteful decorations and her electronics. Maybe she kept the rest in a secret pocket universe. Or had someone dump it all back in _my_ office every night.

She pushed aside the computer, folded her hands in front of her and looked directly at me. I straightened a little in the chair, responding to her _time to get down to business_ signals.

"First, John, I wanted to let you know I've been informed your room needs another 24 hours. The cleaning chemicals have to air out before Carson will certify your quarters as habitable."

I sighed. "No problem. I've got sleeping arrangements worked out."

She tilted her head a bit. "The cot in Rodney's quarters?"

"Nah. One of the balconies." I cut her off before she could start with reasons why the cot in Rodney's room was preferable. "Its okay, Elizabeth. Really. Ronon stayed with me last night. I'm sure he'll do it again, if I ask." I gave her a reassuring _got everything handled _smile, while thinking _like I'm seriously going to ask._

She narrowed her eyes at me but decided it wasn't worth arguing over. At least not at the moment. "All right. As long as you have a safe place arranged."

I waited. She'd tell me what was really on her mind when she was ready.

She looked at me over her folded hands. "John, have you used one of the laptops today?"

Well, _that_ came out of left field. "No," I answered, disconcerted. "Why?"

"Someone hacked into our 'net last night."

I frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. Why hack into something we all have access to? Was anything damaged? Do we know who?"

She continued to stare steadily at me.

I felt my eyes open wide in surprise. "You don't think _I _did it, do you?" _Whatever 'it' was._

She leaned back enough to snag her laptop and pull it towards the middle of the table. I dragged my chair closer to her desk and she turned the screen so I could see. It hummed as she booted it up, and without looking at me said, "No, you don't have the computer skills to do this kind of mischief. But you certainly know people who _do._"

The laptop clicked to itself a couple of times, and then the monitor cleared and lit up. Instead of the Stargate Atlantis logo with its usual accompaniment of security protocols and threats of what would happen to unauthorized users, the screen had a picture of the cast of "Gilligan's Island." The theme music for the old television show played cheerfully in the background. Elizabeth pushed the laptop closer to me and I peered at the screen. Now I could see the broken prow of the boat was no longer named the _Minnow_; it said _Atlantis or Bust._ Elizabeth's head had been placed on the Skipper's body. Rodney's head was on the Professor's body. And my head was on Gilligan's body. As I watched, Elizabeth's face on the screen frowned, reached up the Skipper's arm to take the sailor hat off of Elizabeth's head, and then used the hat to whap Gilligan/me. Rodney's face smirked while the Professor's hand directed everyone else's attention to the action.

"Hey! How come _I_ have to be Gilligan?" I complained, as I watched Gilligan/me slowly get pounded into the sand. "I'd have thought Zelenka would be the obvious choice." At Elizabeth's _ahem_ I looked up. _I am not amused_ was the clear expression on her face. I backpedaled as fast as I could. "I mean, do we have any idea who did this?"

Elizabeth shut down the computer again. "No," she said, pushing the laptop back to the side. "Frankly, there are just too many people here capable of producing and uploading this kind of file. Do _you_, by any chance, know who has too much time on their hands?"

I shook my head. "Sorry, no. I didn't know anything about this." I winced when I realized I was repeating what Rodney had told me to say.

She tapped a finger on the table. "Breakfast this morning was also interesting. My oatmeal was blue."

"Mine was pink. Apparently they ran out of blue earlier."

The tapping stopped. "The color of the oatmeal is irrelevant. The fact that the oatmeal had a color other than the typical tan is what I'm focusing on at the moment." She stared at me across her desk. "Amazingly, when I inquired about this unusual presentation everyone agreed _someone_ had told them to add the food coloring, but efforts to track down who had given the order just led in circles."

I shrugged and offered a _sorry, totally clueless but feeling your pain_ expression.

"I realize you're still off duty, John, but I would appreciate it if you would keep your ears open for any talk about these incidents. I realize this may just be someone's idea of blowing off steam, but it can't be allowed to go any further."

"I understand." And I did. With a closed population of chronically hyper and over-stimulated scientists it would be easy for incidents to get out of hand, as everyone vied to top the previous one.

"Good." She put her open hands palm down on the desk. _This meeting is over._ "Keep me informed."

I stood slowly, making sure all the furniture stayed in the place and the room didn't rotate without me. Smiling, I said, "Will do," and walked out the door. Bouncing my shoulder off the right door jam kind of ruined the effect, but I didn't turn around to see her reaction.

_Time to check in on the Duo Geeks of Chaos,_ I thought to myself. If Rodney hadn't done the reprogramming, I was betting Zelenka had. I passed a Marine and heard him humming the theme to _Gilligan's Island._ A few steps later I realized the same stupid song was now stuck in my head. Great. Just what I needed...an ear that throbbed in time with _...five passengers set sail that day for a three hour tour..._


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen:

Oh, golly. This is just so embarrassing. Thanks to **Titan 5** and **Kitty **for continuing to nudge me to get this out of my head and onto paper. And to everyone else who has continued to read and comment, both my apologies and my thanks!

**Guarding the Shepard**

Chapter Fourteen:

I was seriously reconsidering my decision to avoid painkillers today as I ambled down the hallways towards Nerdvana. At least I tried to give the _impression_ I was ambling. Ambling and weaving erratically were pretty much the same thing, weren't they? I reached up to rub my right shoulder as I misjudged a corner yet again and scraped the wall. I'd be better able to walk a straight line if whoever was making Atlantis dip to the right just as I was picking a foot up off the floor, would quit. And the swirling wall decorations would hold still. And Lassie back there, ("Lassiter, sir,"), would go away and stop making me feel like I was being stalked.

The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced it had been McKay who had reprogrammed the computer network. It was certainly his level of humor. I could try to track down who might have brought "Gilligan's Island" DVD's with them, or had them delivered on a supply run, but we'd all done so much sharing of entertainment materials there were probably already three bootleg copies in the science department alone.

Making a left at Nerdvana Central, I turned down the wing McKay kept his labs. The anvil chorus in my head and ear had gotten excited during my walk, and now I had little sparks of pain, like lightening bolts, in my ear and jaw, to keep the quilters company. Any reasonable mood I might have been in had evaporated with the third time I'd had to lean casually up against the wall and smile at people, while trying very hard not to fall over.

Grumbling to myself about Ancient architects who hadn't thought to put benches in the interminable corridors, something tweaked my attention. Something was different. Something was out of place. It didn't have that _you are so screwed_ feeling, more like _pay attention, this could be important.._ My footsteps slowed automatically, as I took stock of the immediate area. The Marine behind me, practicing his _who, me?_ imitation, slowed as well.

I looked around slowly, trying not to lose my balance or throw up. Nothing and nobody unusual. I touched the wall, but didn't feel any unusual vibrations or warnings from Atlantis, herself. A few steps further, and I realized the problem—I was approaching McKay's lab, and it smelled _good_.

Anyone who spends any amount of time around research labs knows they smell. Sometimes they smell like antiseptic, sometimes like burnt coffee, and a lot of times like well-no-those-two-things-shouldn't-have-been-mixed, but they don't generally smell like fresh bread. I could hear Rodney's strident tones among others, and as I entered McKayland the smell changed to something like warm, dry grass.

"No, no, no!" He was practically nose to nose with Zelenka, waving one hand in the general direction of a rectangular object on one end of a lab table, and the other imperiously ordering the milling techs to come support him. "Its obviously a recorder for gathering, concentrating and recording olfactory stimulating molecules!"

The object seemed to shimmer, and now the lab smelled like flowers. Or maybe fruit.

"Ridiculous!" was Zelenka's answer, pushing his glasses farther up his face. "Why not just write down formulas and recreate when you want?!"

I leaned up against the door jamb. "Are you telling me you discovered a Smelly Book, McKay?"

His head snapped up and he glared in my direction. "Oh, ha-ha, Colonel Clueless." He went back to invading Zelenka's personal space. "Maybe this is the equivalent of a paint sample book. Maybe you could pick out not only what color your room could be, but how it could smell!"

The object shimmered again, only now it smelled kind of like hot road tar.

"Already have that capability!" Zelenka shot back. "Is called _room freshener._" He peered around Rodney's bulk. "Hello, Colonel. Come to see Rodney make fool of self, again?"

I opened my mouth to reply but had to cough as I got a lung full of Burnt Toast.

Oblivious, McKay stabbed a finger at one of his minions. "You! Parkingspace!"

"Tarkenson," was the woman's less than patient reply.

"Whatever. Wouldn't it be possible to have a written language completely comprised of odors?"

She considered the question, while the room slowly filled with Eau du Garbage. "Animals do communicate with odors, marking territory, advertising mating availability…"

"Hah!" Rodney turned back to point triumphantly at Radek. "Maybe this is an encyclopedia from a race that communicates by scent!"

"Uh, Doctor McKay?" One of the techs was wringing his hands.

Zelenka waved a hand in front of his face as the odor changed to Too Long Dead Something. "Maybe is reply to stupid scientific hypothesis! Says 'your idea stink!'"

"It's a book!"

"Is not!"

"It obviously is!"

"It's…um…sparking…" A tech was edging away from the lab table, where the artifact was now producing fat, white discharges. "Is it supposed to be doing that?"

Both scientists turned around and Radek said, "It's what?"

The artifact let out what sounded like a huge burp and started spraying sparks and the smell of burning metal around the room. I ducked reflexively, then was knocked on my ass by a thunder of fleeing lab personnel, obviously well practiced in the art of running like hell when something looked like it might blow up. Just as I managed to get one foot under me, I was knocked to my knees by a surge of scientists running back in to see why the first ones had run out. It was like whiplash by group hysteria, and I yelped when someone stepped on my hand.

I felt myself being hauled up by a hand wrapped around my bicep, and realized my Marine shadow was trying to get me out of the doorway. He propped me against the wall and fended off nervous techs who couldn't decide if they were coming or going, or if they wanted to be there for the explosion or really far away from it. A fire retardant blanket was thrown over the artifact, and smoke started being sucked out the air vents.

I shook off Lassie, ("Lassiter, sir"), and tried to find McKay and Zelenka. That was when I realized the only thing keeping me upright was the Marine's forearm across my chest. He caught me as I took a step forward that just kept going, and in a stomach churning move turned me around and deposited me on a bench just inside the room.

Taking deep breaths and telling myself my stomach was not trying to turn itself inside out, I managed enough air to yell for Rodney and Radek. Squeezing my eyes down to slits, in part to avoid the clearing smoke, and in part to force the room from rotating around me, I saw four heads pop up from behind an overturned table. "You two okay?" I called, forcing an overlapping image of Radek's hair on McKay to separate into just two faces, and trying not to cough.

"We are fine, Colonel," Zelenka replied, standing up.

"Speak for yourself," McKay said, brushing down the front of his jacket. "I think I burned my hand. And I have a scratchy throat from the smoke. And I'm never going to get this smell out of my jacket."

"As I said," Radek smiled. "We are fine. You?"

I waved off his concern. "I'll live." _No throwing up,_ I ordered my stomach. _No throwing up, no puking, just stay where you belong._ I rubbed my ear gingerly, which was a bad idea. More deep breaths. "What is that thing?"

With McKay hanging back, Radek carefully picked up a corner of the heavy silver blanket. "Is broken," he declared, peeling back more blanket to show a blackened mess.

Rodney stared at what was left of the artifact, then shrugged. "Oh, well." He pointed to one of the techs at random. "Clean this up."

Coming over to join me on the bench, he squinted at me. "You sure you're okay? You don't look okay. You look like you had one two many turns on the Tilt-A-Whirl. Are you supposed to be down here?"

I tried to take deep breaths, my teeth gritted against the unhappy flipflopping of my stomach. "I'm fine. Except for smelly, exploding Ancient artifacts, my day has been just terrific. I especially liked the morning meeting with Elizabeth, where she expressed her delight with the new Atlantis screensaver."

McKay tried to keep the smirk off his face, but it kept sliding back. "Really?" he said, trying for nonchalant. "I hadn't noticed."

"Did you happen to notice who might have thought 'Gilligan's Island' would be more interesting with Lantis personnel photoshopped onto certain characters?"

Radek joined us, watching as the lab rats dropped what was left of the artifact in a box of sand, then started collecting the loose pieces. "Ah, Colonel. You are impressed by creative use of America's greatest cultural export, yes?"

I frowned. Now that the emergency was over, everything I owned ached, and what didn't ache, kept trying to evacuate. "We're talking about 'Gilligan's Island' on the intranet screensaver."

"So was I."

I closed my eyes, trying to clamp down on the sickening dizzy feeling, but that only made it worse. "If you happen to come across the person or persons who thought it was a good idea to change the screensaver, please let them know Elizabeth thought it was a bad idea. And she was very vocal about it this morning. And if I find out who did it, I'm going to be very vocal, also."

Zelenka gave a mock sigh. "True artists are never understood."

"Tell the artist he has until lunch to return the network to its boring, revolving logo." As if the word _revolving_ had been some kind of a cue, my stomach tried to turn a back flip.

Rodney back away, alarmed, saying, "Not on me! Throw up on someone else for a change!"

Radek appeared at my elbow with a coffee mug. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't think coffee is a good idea right now."

I got a quick head shake, which made his flyaway hair flap disconcertingly. "Is only water, Colonel, not to worry. Many of McKay's pronouncements make people want to throw up. Everyone well versed in how to treat nausea resulting from listening too long to Head Scientist."

He handed the mug to me, and I realized my hand was shaking. Rodney wrapped his own hand around mine, and steadied the mug as I carefully sipped cool water.

"And what about the migraines caused by the idiotic ramblings of a refugee from Tinker Toy Land?" Rodney waved his free hand at the techs gingerly scraping melted scrap off a lab table, while pretending he wasn't keeping me from spilling water all over myself with his other. "If you hadn't distracted me with that pathetic argument about air fresheners…"

"Distracted? _Distracted?!_" Radek had a set of lungs on him, no doubt about it.

I missed getting another sip of water when Rodney pulled the mug away, better to gesture with both hands. Water spilled out over both of us, and he let go of the mug to shake his wet hand in Radek's face. I managed to keep the heavy pottery from dropping and set it carefully on the bench next to me. No use getting any wetter than I already was.

Zelenka had been reduced to swearing in Czech, and Rodney seemed to be answering in Russian, when Lassiter nudged me. "Sir…"

I bent a little closer to him, trying to catch what he was saying.

"Sir, I have a message for you from—"

"…you undereducated, overpromoted midget! What bubblegum machine did you get your degree out of? Are you getting your theories from the astrology columns in supermarket tabloids again?"

He paused for breath and I interrupted. "Shut up, McKay. I can't hear what Lassie is saying."

"Lassiter, sir."

"Who cares? I certainly don't." Rodney jerked his chin up and stared down his nose at Radek. Radek glared back.

Before either one of them could get started again, I held up a hand. "Just let me find out what the problem of the moment is, and then you two can go back to your mutual lack-of-admiration society." I motioned Lassiter to talk before either of the scientists could take a breath.

"Sir. Yes, sir." He tapped his earpiece, letting whoever was on the other end know he was ready. "Major Lorne says Ronon is scaring the chemists and asks for your advice, sir."

"He's scaring the chemists?" I repeated blankly. "Scaring them how? What's he doing?"

There was a pause as Lassiter passed along my questions, and another as he listened to my 2IC's answer.

"Sir," he said, keeping his face expressionless and looking somewhere over my left shoulder, "Major Lorne reports Ronon is…looking at them."

I blinked, trying to decide if I had misheard. The growing smile on Rodney's face convinced me I hadn't.

"He's looking at them?" I got an affirmative nod. "That's it? He isn't threatening them or anything?" Lassiter winced a little, and I realized my voice was getting loud.

"No, sir. Major Lorne says Ronon is just standing in the doorway. Looking at them. And sharpening a knife. And smiling."

I closed my eyes for moment. I was too tired for this. "Major," I said, knowing my voice would be picked up by Lassiter's microphone, "don't make me turn this city around." I rubbed my forehead, trying to distract the quilters. "Tell Ronon no knife sharpening in front of the scientists. Tell the chemists to stop being wusses."

"Major Lorne says yes, sir, and thank you for the singularly unhelpful directions." I glared, and Lassiter pointed to his ear. _Don't shoot the messenger, sir._

I sighed, my patience suddenly at an end. Standing up, I balanced myself against the wall and batted away Rodney's attempt to help. "That's it," I said, taking a couple of wobbly steps towards the door, "I've had all I can stand at the moment."

"Sheppard, wait…" McKay called after me.

Ignoring him, I made it out to the corridor, bouncing off the wall only once. My head hurt, my ear hurt, the floor was jumping up and down like I was walking on a trampoline, and the stained glass windows were bleeding nauseatingly into one another. I found myself moving faster, as if I was trying to keep my balance while running downhill.

McKay was catching up behind me, but I didn't want to talk. I wanted to be some place quiet. Some place I could take a couple of deep breaths and settle myself down, before finding out the next problem of the day.

"Slow down, Sheppard," I heard McKay yell.

I turned a corner and ran into the wall on the other side. Rubbing my shoulder, I stumbled up a set of stairs and down another corridor. Fending off decorative bubbling water tubes that insisted on jumping in front of me, going down to one knee when the floor rose up and hit me on the sole of one boot, I maintained as fast a pace I could without leaving my face print somewhere painful.

After making like a yo-yo down the hallways, my destination was in sight. I thought the doors open on my balcony, and smiled a little at the smell of the salty breeze. This was _my_ balcony. The one I came to when I wanted to think, or do paperwork in peace. No one bothered me when I was out here.

I tried to slow down, but I was still off balance. Passing through the door, I put my right foot down flat on my next step, to absorb some of my forward momentum. At least that was the plan. Instead, my foot slipped out from under me. Unable to get any purchase with my left foot, I landed on my back, sliding a little on the slick surface.

The wind knocked out of me and little sparkles in my vision from where I hit my head, I vaguely heard McKay call out in alarm. Seconds later, there was a high pitched screech, and Rodney slammed into me, pushing me closer to the balustrade. Trying to get enough air back to let me see what was going on, McKay shoved me again, and I slid up against one of the vertical supports for the railing.

"McKay," I wheezed, getting a kick in the shoulder as Rodney floundered around, "what the hell?"

"Slipped…" More McKay flailing. As my vision cleared I realized he was on his back, making uncoordinated swimming motions. Next to him was Lassiter, on his stomach, trying to fend off Rodney's elbows.

"Stop it!" I caught Rodney's foot before he could kick me again, and managed to roll over onto my front. "Stop flailing around and let's figure out what happened here!"

McKay subsided, taking a couple of deep breaths. "I know what happened. I slipped on something out here and landed on my back. I have a very sensitive back you know. I'm probably paralyzed. I'll probably never walk again!" He wiggled some more, managing to press me more firmly up against the railing support.

"You aren't paralyzed. If you were paralyzed you wouldn't be able to kick me in the head!"

"Oh. Sorry." His attention temporarily derailed, he turned his attention to our situation. "_Now_ what have you done?" he demanded. He swept a hand across the balcony floor. "This is disgusting! What is this?" He tried to wipe off the slick goo on his pants.

"It wasn't me! I don't know what this is." I wiggled a little, trying to see if I could get enough purchase to stand.

"That was my ear, Colonel!" Rodney made more swimming motions, which only got him tangled up in Lassiter's duty belt, and pushed me up against the railing brace. Which started to _bend._

"Whoa, whoa! Don't move, Rodney!" I tried to get away from the edge of the balcony, but I couldn't get enough friction to move. Rodney, oblivious, tried to use me to push himself away. The vertical railing bent more, and in terrifyingly slow motion, peeled away from the floor of the balcony.

Rodney was berating Lassiter for not catching him when he slipped. Lassiter was pointing out if McKay hadn't run after me, he wouldn't be in this situation. Rodney ignored him and jerked his hips, trying to get himself untangled. He tried using me for leverage again, and I slipped partly over the edge. The only thing keeping me from sliding right into the water, several stories below, was the jagged end of the railing upright, caught in the back of my pants.

"Rodney!" I yelled, scrabbling for the edge of the balcony floor.

"Oh, now what?" McKay tried pushing the Marine away, the reaction shoving the railing upright through my pants and into the small of my back. He looked over, his eyes got huge, and he grabbed onto the foot that hadn't already slipped over the edge. "Sheppard!"

"Lassiter! Call for help! Tell them to bring ropes! And _don't move._" My hand wasn't large enough to hold onto the edge of the balcony, but I grabbed a fistful of McKay's pant leg and held on. I tried to grab another railing upright, but that one started to bend under my weight, as well.

"Don't move, McKay," I said through gritted teeth.

"Not moving! Not moving!"

"Help's coming," Lassiter said, wrapping an arm around Rodney's chest. I didn't know what good it would do. None of us could do anything but slide.

Over Rodney's frantic breathing, Lassiter asked, "Sir, does this count as a 'happening'?"

"Oh, yes," snapped Rodney. "Definitely. See the disco ball up there? I'm sure the girls in polka dotted miniskirts will be here any minute."

"Shut up, McKay," I ordered. "What kind of 'happening'?"

There was a moment of silence and a gulp. "Well, sir, Major Lorne made it very clear there were to be no 'happenings'. While he didn't exactly define what a 'happening' was, he was very…um…specific about how there shouldn't be one."

I tried to breathe shallowly, so as not to disturb the strip of metal keeping me anchored to the balcony. "Yes, Lassie, this counts as a happening."

There was a sigh from the other side of McKay. "Lassiter, sir."


	15. Chapter 15

Oh, good grief. Good thing I don't do this for a living. Thanks again to everyone who kept nudging and encouraging.

**Guarding the Shepard:**

Chapter Fifteen

III

Our rescue was anti-climatic.

"_Balcony, three asses. Confirm. Do not approach."_

"_Who are you calling an ass, Lassie?"_

"_What the hell are you talking about, Sheppard?!"_

"_Stop wiggling, McKay!"_

A team of Marines brought enough rope to hogtie King Kong.

"_Hold on, sir. We'll have you out of there in a minute."_

"_They could have just flown a 'jumper over here, you know."_

"_It's not safe to fly so close to the city, McKay. And stop wiggling!"_

"_I can't help it! I think I'm allergic to this gunk. My back itches!"_

"_Well, scratch it later!"_

Sergeant Chen threw loops at Lassiter until he caught one.

"_I said stop wiggling!"_

"_It wasn't me! It was your Marine!"_

"_Just hold on, McKay. Chen will pull us clear."_

"_I'm trusting my life to a cowboy named Chen?!"_

"_Cowgirl, sir. Sergeant Precious Chen was raised on a cattle farm in Nevada."_

"_I'm trusting my life to a cowgirl named Precious Chen?!"_

"_Shut up, McKay, and lay still!"_

Lassiter wrapped the rope around his free arm.

"_Ouch! Tell them to stop throwing chunks of rope in my face!"_

"_They expect you to hold onto one, McKay."_

"_With my teeth?! What kind of idiotic plan is that? Don't you think I need my teeth for other things, like, oh, eating?"_

"_I need to stop dangling over open space, McKay, so grab one and hold on! Without squirming around!"_

"_Well, make up your mind, Sheppard. Either I grab for a rope, or I stay still!"_

"_Multi-task, McKay!"_

Lassiter got a good grip on McKay.

"_Personal space, Lackey! Watch where those hands are going! Ack, Sheppard, I'm being groped by a Marine!"_

"_Lassiter, sir. I'm just making sure Dr. McKay doesn't get separated from me when they start pulling."_

"_Shut up, McKay. Your manhood is safe. Now hold on!"_

The ropes pulled taut, and slowly I felt McKay slide away from me.

"_Wait! Wait a minute! I'm hung up on something. McKay, can you see what it is?"_

"_Looks like part of the railing is caught in your clothes. Can you wiggle yourself free?"_

"_No wiggling!"_

"_Don't be a baby!"_

A few moments later, after exhaling as far as I could, the Marines gave a couple of good yanks and I scraped over the edge of the balcony, sliding after McKay and Lassiter. The railing plowed a furrow across my back, but I barely noticed. Still hugging Rodney's leg like my personal teddy bear, I was dragged after Lassiter and McKay. One by one we were picked up by Marines and brought through the door to be set in the hallway. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. Blowing out a breath, I enjoyed the brief balance point between the fading terror of hanging over the balcony edge like so much bait, and the escalating insistence of my body to pay attention to its aches and pains.

The corridor was mostly organized chaos. McKay was complaining, something about allergies and a broken back. I heard Lorne's questioning tone, interspersed with Lassiter's quieter voice, and an annoyed paramedic insisting everyone be quiet and sit down. I rubbed a little of the goop from the balcony between my fingers. Slick, smooth, warm from the heat of my hand. A faint smell, nothing I could identify, rose from my clothes. I started to a hand on my shoulder, losing my little Zen island of peace.

"Sorry, Colonel. Dinna mean ta scare ya."

I sighed.

"Colonel? How are ya feelin'? Can ya open yer eyes fer me?"

I sighed again. "I'm fine."

"If yer fine, son, then I should be seein' yer eyes."

"What if my eyes don't want to see you?" All right. So maybe I was getting a little cranky. My back stung, my chest ached from laying on the edge of the balcony, the earache was back in full force, and I was beginning to think that opening my eyes would lead to bad things. Plus, as the adrenaline faded, so did what was left of my energy. I decided it was pretty soft, for a wall. I could hang out here for a while.

Carson's voice took on a more concerned tone. "Did yeh hit yer head, Colonel?" Hands gently grasped each side of my head around ear level, and fingers started walking along my skull. A slight tug forward set my stomach to roiling, and I batted away the doctor's hands.

"No touching!" I opened my eyes to glare at Beckett, who took the opportunity to shine his damned penlight in my face. If he was half as fast with a gun as he was with that flashlight, the Wraith wouldn't have a chance. I swallowed hard.

"There now. That was nay so bad, 'twas it. Now let me look at th' back of yer head." He reached out and, one hand behind a shoulder and one hand at the base of my skull, pulled me away from the wall.

My stomach responded pretty much the way I thought it might. I closed my eyes again and leaned back, taking a couple of deep breaths. Definitely a good wall.

"Ah. A bit unsettled, are yeh?" He raised his voice. "Bridget, darlin', can you bring the gurnery over here?"

McKay's voice dopplered past above my head. "Hey! Stop! Wait a minute! Sheppard? What's going on there? Beckett, what did you do? I said stop, you imbecilic reject from basket making school! Sheppard?!"

My stomach flipflopped at just the thought of moving. "I don't think that's a good idea, Carson. How about if I just stay here a while?"

"That's a good, lass. Yeh get on his other side, and we'll get him to his feet."

A hand appeared under each armpit and I was pulled up from the floor. Off balance, I reflexively scrabbled to get my feet under me. "No moving, Carson!"

"Now swing him around, gently lass, and sit him down."

"No swinging, Carson!"

But the world whirled and my butt contacted the pallet. Jerking free of the hands, I dropped my head between my knees and anointed the floor with what was left of my breakfast. I was handed a moist towelette, and shakily wiped my face.

"Feet up, Colonel. Head down. Yer doin' fine. Let me get th' strap."

I opened my eyes long enough to glare at the single minded doctor. "No strap! You know I hate the strap!"

The buckle clicked. "Yeh can raise the gurney now, love."

At the first lurch upward I grabbed onto the side railing and said, "No raising gurneys!" Every little jerk as the pallet was raised made my stomach twist. I was down to dry heaves, but my stomach didn't care.

"Quickly now, Bridget. I'll be down to meet yeh at the infirmary as soon as I've had a look at th' young Marine." A pat on my shoulder and the gurney started moving.

I opened my eyes again to see ceiling tiles sliding past far too quickly for comfort. When they started dancing left and right as well, I clenched my eyes shut. "Not so fast!"

The gurney slowed a little, but not enough. "Colonel, if we were going any slower, we'd be moving backwards."

"How about we not move at all?"

"How about you take a couple of nice, deep breaths and let them out slowly. We'll be there before you know it. Make sure your hands are tucked in. I need to get the transporter doors."

"Not the transporter!"

We came out of the transporter, and I curled up on my side as much as I could. I was dizzy, my hands were damp and cold, I could feel the sweat running down the sides of my face, and I was wondering if Beckett would write a paper on the first human to turn his stomach inside out, like a starfish. Even the starch on the pillow case was making me nauseous.

The infirmary doors slid opened, and I added the smell of alcohol wipes and disinfectant to the list of things my guts objected to.

"Straight inta decontamination with ya, Colonel."

I groaned.

III

Decontamination is not one of the most pleasant things to endure, but going through it twice in such a short period of time was cruel and unusual punishment.

"Perhaps I can get that for you, sir?" offered Lassiter, as I nearly slid off the bench trying to pick up a packet of medicated wipes. He deftly retrieved the large, soft packet from near my feet, and then attempted to steady me while trying not to touch any part of my body. It was as successful as it sounds.

"Oh, for God's sake, Sheppard. You can't even sit up." McKay stomped over, at least as well as he could manage in bare feet, snatched the package of wipes away from Lassiter and pushed the young Marine in the direction of one of the nurses. "Go play doctor with the nice nurse, Lackey, Lastly, Landing…"

"Lassiter," the Marine and I said together.

"Whatever. Run along. Look at it as a medically sanctioned chance to feel up a pretty woman."

"McKay!"

I got the Rodney Look of Distain. "Like you wouldn't be trying it if you could stand up without leaving your face imprint on any nearby furniture. Give me that!"

He snatched up a towel and nearly knocked me off the bench scrubbing rather vigorously on my hair. "Like I need to go through this again." He raised his voice. "I just did all this crap yesterday!"

"Then yeh should be well acquainted with th' procedure!" yelled back Carson from the other side of the room.

By the time I was considered thoroughly decontaminated, I was well past miserable and on to just-kill-me-now. McKay got the scrub top on me, complaining all the while about how having to bend over was causing irrepairable damage to his broken spine, while Lassiter, bright red and avoiding eye contact, offered me the scrubs bottoms and then put my socks on for me, diffidently saying things like, "as long as I'm already down here, do you think your feet might use some help?" It was all I could do to restrain myself from sticking my foot up his nose and snarling.

Carson wandered over to take another look at my back and declare that while the scratch was long, it wasn't deep enough to require stitches. He tutted a bit over the bruises I was already developing, decided I was dehydrated and should rest a while in the infirmary.

It took both Carson and Rodney to keep me on my feet while the world whirled around nauseatingly, and walk me the short distance to a bed. While my joints and muscles sank gratefully into the mattress, even laying flat out wasn't enough to calm the horrible feeling that everything in the world was moving except me.

Gritting my teeth, I sat up, slowly, and pulled my knees to my chest. One arm wrapped around my shins, my chin on my knees, and the other hand trailing IV tubing and gripping the side of the gurney, and I started to feel like I might survive after all.

Breathing slowly, I got the room to stop bouncing up and down. Risking what little equilibrium I had managed to scrape up, I looked around slowly. Lorne was standing where he could see all of us, one hand resting on his kit belt. Ronon was leaning up against the wall near the door. His body said _this is undoubtedly the most boring part of my day_ but his eyes said _I don't like how things are going._

"Major?" I called, and Lorne shifted a few steps closer. "Report."

A shift of one shoulder—_you know as much as I do_—and a brief grimace. "I've sent a sample of that stuff down to Dr. Kavanaugh. I've, ah, impressed upon him the need to have it analyzed immediately."

From the doorway came a flash of Ronon's teeth. Great. No doubt I'd find another e-mail, or twenty, from Kavanaugh.

"Any progress on our other incidents?"

"Not yet, sir." Lorne's eyes flicked away from me and back again. The movement was so brief it would be hard for someone who didn't know him to spot it.

I narrowed my gaze. "But…" I prompted.

He shifted a bit from one foot to the other and cleared his throat. "But the water faucets are now playing _It's a Small World_."

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. Really…what do you say to an announcement like that?

"_It's a Small World_?"

"Yes, sir."

"From Disney."

"That would be the one, sir."

It took a moment to process this. In the silence I could hear McKay arguing, but not what he was arguing about.

"Is water still coming out of the faucets?"

Lorne nodded. "Yes, sir. And the infirmary seems to have been exempted. Every where else, though..." He shrugged again. _I'm a Marine, not an entertainment director._ "The kitchen staff are not taking it well."

McKay came towards the bed, clutching a small bottle in his hand. "Advil! The sheepherder gave me _Advil_! For a broken back!" He shook the bottle in my general direction and scowled. "Says there's nothing wrong but some _bruising_. Says he can't find any disc damage. I don't think he was even listening. He gives woolgathering a whole new meaning!"

"You okay, Rodney?" He _sounded_ okay. Generally the louder he is, the less hurt he is.

"_Rest_ the man says." I got the bottle waved in my face again. "In my own bed, he says. Well, when I can't get up for dinner and my blood sugar drops into the basement and I have to be peeled up off the mattress and brought into whatever passes for the emergency room around here, we'll see who only needed Advil!"

So, yeah. Okay.

"I'm getting something to eat before I die in my room. You want anything?"

The very thought of eating was appalling. "No, you go ahead."

I got a jerk of the chin, and he stomped out of the room, muttering. As he sidled past Ronon, not willing to tempt the big man's patience or sense of humor, Lassiter appeared and also headed towards the door.

"Wait a minute, Lassiter," I called. "We have some protocols to discuss."

Lorne looked a bit confused, but brought the young soldier to the end of my bed.

"I realize I'm not big on formality around here, but that's no reason to take advantage of it. During an emergency, I expect everyone to follow communication protocols _to the letter_. No screwing around. No slang, no pet names, nothing. Do you understand?"

Lassiter stood at attention and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll leave it up to Major Lorne to decide what you'll be doing to help you remember that." God, I was in a bad mood. I probably looked like an idiot, a death grip on the gurney and my knees pulled up to my chest, but if I was going to be miserable, I might as well share it.

Lorne cleared his throat to get my attention. "Sir, I'd appreciate it if you'd remind me what incident Sergeant Lassiter was involved in. So I can make sure the punishment fits. Sir."

I glared at him. He looked back, a neutral look on his face. _I'm just a lowly major._

"That would be the 'three asses' incident, Major."

I got a blank look from both of them.

"On the balcony. When Sergeant Lassiter radioed for assistance, he referred to us as 'three asses'." I glared in Lassiter's direction. "Not only was it completely inappropriate to identify the three of us that way, no matter what his personal opinion might be, using terms like that could potentially confuse and delay emergency rescue."

Lorne's head tilted a little to one side. "Ah…I believe there might have been some confusion, sir. Lassiter didn't say 'three asses.' He said 'three s's'."

"That's right," I growled. "Three asses. Sergeant, you're on report. Major, I want your recommendation in my hand by 18 hundred hours."

Lorne cleared his throat. "No asses were mentioned, sir. Lassiter was talking about the letter s." He drew a large _S_ in the air. "Like on the front of Superman. Three s's."

"S's?" _What the hell?_ I was confused, and I don't like being confused. Especially when I'm busy ignoring the bass drum choir pounding in my ear and behind my right eye. "That's only a slight improvement over asses," I begrudged. I waited, but no more information was forthcoming. "And 'three s's' stand for…?" I prompted, growling.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously as Lorne resettled his kit belt. "It's the designation for that balcony, sir. It's the Three S balcony."

That didn't make any sense. That balcony wasn't on the south side of Atlantis or the third level. I spoke slowly, directly, and with a certain amount of menace at my 2IC. "And for the second time, what do the three s's stand for?"

Lassiter refused to make eye contact, staring at the wall behind me. Lorne gave a little sigh. "It's your balcony, sir. The Sheppard Sleep and Sulk balcony." He winced.

I swear I felt my stomach flutter. Slowly, I raised my chin off my knees. Lorne's gaze remained fixed just over my head. "You know where my favorite balcony is?" Disbelieving at first. "The one where no one can find me when I don't want to be found? The one McKay hasn't been able to convince Atlantis to tell him the location for? And you _named_ it?" A disapproving look from a passing nurse confirmed my voice was getting louder. It became all I could do to keep my temper locked behind my teeth. "Leaving aside the part where you _named_ my balcony, and an unusual name it is, too, I'm more interested right now in how you found it to begin with."

Lorne's shoulders stiffened. "We're Marines, sir."

I closed my eyes and let my chin fall back on my knees. "Dismissed. Make sure someone cleans up that mess." Wasn't anything I could do about it at this point.

Lassiter snapped off a short salute, and Lorne made a sketchier one. Both retreated like they were afraid I was going to change my mind, jump off the bed and chase them down the hall.

"And I don't _sulk_," I muttered.


End file.
